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la  dernldre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

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cas:  le  symbols  -^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbols  y  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmto  d  dee  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
iilustrent  la  mithode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

TI 


COAINA, 


THE  ROSE  OF  THE  ALGONQUINS. 


MES.  AK^A  H.  DOESET. 


» >  •  t « 


KEIW  YOEK: 
P.    O'SHEA,   PUBLISHER, 

No.  27  Barclay  Street. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1887,  oy 
P.  O'SHEA, 

in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern 

District  of  New  Yorlt. 


COAINA, 

THE   ROSE  OP  THE  ALGONQUINS 


INTRODUCTION. 

Wb  have  no  dislike  to  religious  fictions ;  but  where  authentic 
facts  are  already  too  abundant  for  our  limited  space,  we  see  no 
reason  to  lay  aside  realities  in  which  divine  grace  has  been  the 
chief  agent,  and  some  human  heart  the  real  scene  of  the  action, 
for  tlie  sake  of  suppositions  or  inventions  of  the  mind,  were 
they  ever  so  pious  and  interesting. 

When  the  following  pages  were  presented  to  us  by  their  well- 
known  gifted  authoress,  we  felt  delighted  with  their  beautiful 
diction  and  their  deeply  interesting  incidents ;  still  we  would 
not  have  presented  the  rich  sketch,  had  it  been  merely  a  fine 
tale.  We  therefore  felt  no  ordinary  gratification,  when  we 
received,  a  few  days  since,  the  reply  which  we  subjoin,  inclosing 
"our  pages  of  a  closely-written  letter  from  our  venerable  friend, 
IJishop  de  Charboanel,  containing,  in  substance,  the  whole  his- 
tory of  Coaina.  But  let  the  illustrious  authoress  herself  intro- 
duce, not  the  story,  but  the  history  of  her  admirable  heroine : 

Washington,  January  27, 1866. 
Very  Rev.  Sir: 

After  the  time  and  labor  I  have  expended  on  Coaina,  I  havo 

It.  fr.lly  in  my  power  to  authenticate  its  truthfulness,  under  our 


*▼  INTRODUCTION. 

dear  Monseignpiir  de  Charbonnel's  own  hand.  Some  twouiy 
five  or  six  years  ago,  this  saintly  man,  then  a  missionary  priest 
in  Canada,  came  to  the  Seminary  of  St.  Sulpice,  in  Baltimore, 
for  the  purpose  of  learning  the  English  language  through  a  reg- 
ular  grammatical  course  of  study.  He  was  a  nobleman  of  rank, 
and  had  long  before  relinquished  his  title  and  estates  to  a 
younger  brother,  in  France,  to  become  a  missionary  priest. 

I  learned  this  from  my  venerated  old  confessor.  Father 
Deluol,  who  was  Superior  of  St.  Sulpice,  and  who  introduced 
Father  Charbounel  to  us. 

Father  Charbonnel  was  in  the  habit  of  coming  frequently  to 
our  house  to  converse  in  English  with  us,  and  we  considered  it 
a  great  privilege  to  entertain  him  at  all  times.  One  evening  he 
brought  the  little  manuscript  which  I  inclose— his/rsi!  English 
composition— y/hic\i  he  read  to  us  with  all  the  pleasure  and 
Bimplicity  of  a  child,  and  to  which  we  listened  with  the  deepest 
interest. 

Once  launched  on  the  subject  of  Coaina  he  gave  us  many 
interesting  particulars  of  her  history,  not  recorded  in  his  little 
narrative.  -  I  was  greatly  interested,  and  promised  him  that  I 
would  at  some  future  day  elaborate  and  make  it  into  a  story. 
I  have  kept  it  religiously,  partly  on  account  of  ray  promise, 
partly  for  the  touching  facts  it  relates,  and  partly  as  a  relic  of  a 
eaintly  friend.    Although  Father  Charbonnel  was  reticent  on 
that  point,  I  am  veri/  sure  that  he  was  the  priest  of  the  mission 
at  the  time  these  events  occurred.    He  would  not  own  to  it, 
but  allowed  us  to  infer  it.    A  year  or  so  after  he  left  Baltimore 
he  was  made  Bishop  of  Toronto.    In  the  course  of  a  few  years 
he  resigned  the  mitre  for  the  cowl. 

In  talking  of  (Coaina  he  expatiated  on  Coaina's  devotion  to 


lie  ! 

ir  i 


INTRODUCTION.  f 

tlio  Blessed  Virgin.  Probably  I  have  not  been  happy  in  hTm<r. 
iiig  out  this  fact  conspicuously,  but  no  one  can  read  the  narra- 
tive attentively  without  feeling  it.  The  names  of  the  character? 
—except  Coaina's— are  fictitious,  and  so  are  some  of  the  trivial 
i  icidents  and  embellishments. 

The  situation  of  the  niisdion,  the  villaa-e,  the  calvary,  the 
description  of  the  people,  the  account  of  the  «  Taho,"  are  all  to 
be  found  in  the  "  History  of  the  Indian  Missions  in  North 
America,"  which  has  been  one  of  my  favorite  books  for  years 
past. 

In  writing  Coaina,  I  had  one  special  object  in  view,  besides 
iliuRtrating  the  beauty  and  triumph  of  religion,  and  that  is  to 
ro^rove  the  sins  of  uncharitableness,  slander,  and  rash  judg- 
riJent,  the  three  sins  which  crucified  Christ.  These  are  the  siiis 
of  our  age.  I  sometimes  wonder,  such  is  the  prevalence  of 
these  evils  among  Christians,  if  true  charity  has  become  an 
obsolete  virtue. 

Would  to  God  our  clergy,  and  the  Catholic  press,  w^ld 
make  a  crusade  against  the  specious,  special,  universal  and- 
Bhall  T  say  it-inferAal  sin  of  slander,  in  all  its  forms.    I  don't 
know  that  I  ever  found  any  thing  more  applicable  to  thia  point 
than  the  history  of  Coaina. 

Sincerely  and  truly  your  friend, 

ANNA  H.  DORSET 


COAINA: 

THE  ROSE  OF  THE  ALGONQUINS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  EVE  OP  THE  ASSUMmON. 

Not  far  from  Montreal  lies  a  beautiful  lake,  which 
is  formed  by  tlie  dancing  waters  of  the  Ottawa,  and 
surrounded  by  picturesque  hills,  which  slope  in  gen- 
tle undulations  down  to  its  sedgy  margin.  It  is 
called  Canaradago,  or  the  "Lake  of  the  Two 
Mountains."  One  of  the  hills  is  crowned  by  a 
Calvary,  which  is  approached  by  a  rugged,  circuit- 
ous path,  along  the  sides  of  which  stand,  at  regular 
intervals,  small  rustic  chapels,  which  are  much  vis- 
ited by  pious  pilgrims,  and  where,  during  Lent,  the 
congregations  of  the  Mission  devoutly  perform  the 
"  Stations  of  the  Cross,"  and  sing,  as  they  march 
in  solemn  procession  towards  the  cross-crowned 
summit,  the  sorrows  of  Mary,  the  sonorous  and 
mournful  chaunt  blending,  in  harmonious  accord, 


•  COAINA. 

With  tlio  ponitontial  season,  and  tlio  commomora- 
tivo  siigpfostions  of  tlie  spot. 

Straggling  along  tlio  shores  of  the  lake  and  up 
tho  slopes,  partly  hidden  by  the  hills  and  partly 
shelk3red  by  the  dark  primeval  forest,  which  re- 
cedes  gradually  northward,  and  where  the  pines 
and  hemlocks  ever  moan  together  the  sad  hymn  of 
the  centuries,  nestle  two  Indian  villages  of  a  Catli- 
olic  mission,  which  diverge  to  the  right  and  left 
The  one  on  the  light  belongs  to  a  remnant  of  the 
once  powerful  Algonquins ;  that  on  the  left  to  a 
remnant  of  the  Iroquois,  who  were,  in  former  times 
one  of  the  great  aboriginal  nations  of  the  north  ' 
but  although  such  near  neighbors,  these  two  people' 
are  as  distinct  in  manners  and  language  as  they 
were  m  the  days  of  Carter  and  Champlain.     These 
Catholic  Indians  are  the  descendants  of  the  fierce 
savages  who  tortured  the  blessed  Father  Jogues 
and  martyred,  with  cruel  and  prolonged  torments' 
the  noble  and  saintly  Brebeuf.    They  Hve  in  lodges 
bmlt  of  logs  and  covered  with  bark,  and,  during 
the  spnng  and  summer,  cultivate  their  fields  and 
f^arden  patches,  where  they  raise  corn,  squashes, 
potatoes,  beans,  melons  and  other  useful  vegetables 
and  frmts ;  the  women,  sharing  the  lighter  labors 
ol  the  men,  fish,  dress  skins  and  bark,  dye  the 


COATNA.  0 

qiiills  of  tlio  porcupine,  spin  and  woa .  a  coarse 
cloth,  onibroidcr  tho  garments,  loggings  and  moc- 
casins, which  they  so  ingeniously  fawliion,  with 
beads,  tinsel,  porcupine  quiUs  and  fringes ;  train ' 
their  cliildren  in  strict  obedience  to  tho  rules  of  tho 
mission,  and  in  tho  autumn  migrate,  with  their  Ims- 
bands  and  famihes,  to  the  huntmg  grounds  of  tho 
far  northwest. 

Devoutly  christian  as  many  of  these  Lidians  are, 
and  deeming  it  their  gi-eatest  earthly  privilege  to 
have  a  resident  missionary  priest  among  them  to 
baptize  ana  instruct  theu'  cliildren  and  themselves 
in  the  way  of  salvation,  to  guide  them  aright  while 
Uving  and  console  them  when  dying,  they  adJiero 
with  tenacity  to  many  of  their  traditionary  habits 
and  customs.     On  state  occasions,  they  smoke  the 
calumet  as  a  sort  of  a  ratification  ceremony,  wear 
proudly  the  trophies  of  the  chase,  chng  to  their 
nomadic  habits,  take  a  simple  pleasure  in  gew-gaws, 
feathers,   embroidered  garments,   and,   at  certain' 
times,  do  not  refrain  fi-om  painting  their  faces  with 
vermilHon  and  other  rich  colors,  and  are  ever  ready 
to  engage,  with  great  zest,  in  their  primitive  and 
stirring  games.    Rehgion  has  stripped  these  chil- 
dren of  the  forest  of  none  of  their  simple  enjoy- 
ments or  innocent  customs.    It  has  done  more 


i 


^  OOAINA. 

grandly,  more  diTinely;  it  has  transformed  them 
from  worshippers  of   idols    to  worshippers    and 
adorers  of  the  one  true  God— from  a  behef  in  a 
false  and  weird  cosmogony,  and  crude  mythological 
fables  and  traditions,  to  a  firm  belief  and  enduring 
faith  in  the  wonderful  story  of  the  creation,  of  the 
birth  of  man,  of  the  atonement  of  Jesus  Christ 
and  the  divine  estabhshment  of  His  Chm-ch  upon 
earth;  made  them  children  of  that  fold  wliich  ac- 
knowledges ONE  Lord,  one  faith,  one  baptism,  and 
be]>  .^ves  in  the  commandments  of  Almighty  God, 
and  the  precepts  of  His  Chrrch.     Thus,  by  an  easy 
transition,  it  became  a  strange  but  devout  pleasure 
to  these  primitive  peoi>lo,  instc^ad  of  offering  sacri- 
fice and  hbations  to  the  great  JVendigoes  i^tims,)  to 
propitiate  their  favor  whenever  they  engaged  in  any 
enterprise  of  hardship  and  peril,  to  mvoke  the  .pro- 
tection of  the  Blessed  Yirgm,  and  ask  the  assist- 
ance of  the  prayers  of  the  sauits;  to  coDimend 
themselves,  during  their  journey  through  trackless 
foiests,  and  over  rapid  rivers,  to  the  guardian  care 
of  the  angels  of  God,  instead  of  the  elfish  Nee-oa- 
naiV'haiqs  (water  spirits,)  and  the  evil.  Puk-  Wedjics 
(pigmies  of   the  woods),  to  chaunt  the  plaintive 
Misei^ere  and  De  Profvndis  as  they  bear  their  dead 
to  the  fur-hned  grave,  and  implore  of  the  Great 


1      ! 


COAINA.  7 

Spirit,  for  their  souls,  a  "place  of  refreshment, 
light  and  peace,"  instead  of  performing  the  hea- 
thenish rites  of  old,  which  were  practiced  at  the 
feast  of  the  dead. 

It  was  amongst  this  people,  who  are  the  fruits  of 
the  blossommg  of  the  Canadian  wilderness,  whose 
rocky  solitudes  were  moistened  by  the  vivify-ing 
dews  of  the  precious  blood  of  Christ's  mai-tyi's, 
that  the  events  which  we  are  about  to  relate  hap- 
pened somewhere  near  the  year  1838,  and  if  oui 
introduction  has  been  somewhat  prosy,  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  a  better  understanding  of  the  nan-ative, 
that  it  should  be  written  ;  therefore,  patient  reader, 
if  you  will  accompany  me  to  to  the  chapel  of  the 
Algonquin  village,  which  stands  on  yonder  knoll, 
under  the  broad  shadow  of  the  hemlock  and  syca- 
more tree^  which  surround  it,  I  will,  without  further 
preface,  introduce  you  to  Coaina,  the  "  Eose  of  tlio 
Algonquins,"  and  other  personages  of  our  narrative. 

Somethmg  is  in  progi\ssinand  around  themstic 
chapel,  into  which  the  slanting  rays  of  an  August 
sun  fall  in  trembling  showers  of  gold  through  the 
quivering  leaves,  which  indicates  an  approaching 
festival.  Yoimg  Indian  lads,  with  blossom-laden 
boughs  from  the  forest,  with  tripling  vines  bedight 
with    flowers  of    tropical    hues,  with  baskets  of 


!  11 


S  f 


8 


COAINA. 


I  i, 


mosses,  with  branches  of  wild  roses,  with  great 
clusters  of  golden-rod,  asters  and  the  wood  ane- 
mone, with  wicker  cages  containing  birds,   with 
clusters  of  wild  grapes,  still  clinging  in  purple  rich- 
ness to  the  graceful  vines,  and  garlands  of  gi-ound 
myrtle,  glowing  with  thousands  of  coral  berries, 
were  grouped  here  and  there  around  the  chapel 
doors,  talking  in  subdued  but  cheerful  voices,  their 
low  converse  interrupted  now  and  then  by  a  burst 
of  innocent  laughter,  which  sounded  m  sweet  ac- 
cord mth  the  rusthng  of  leaves  overhead,  the  wild 
notes  of  the  caged  birds,  the  drowsy  hum  of  bees, 
and  the  distant  murmurs  of  the  dancing  waters  of 
the  lake.     The  lads  peeped  now  and  then  into  the 
chapel ;  they  were  waiting  for  some  one  who  was 
within  to  come  out  and  receive  the  floral  treasures 
and  offerings  they  had  brought.    Meanwhile  they 
took  pleasure  in  observing  the  beautiful  and  sacred 
objects  and  adornments  of  the  altar,  and  the  shrine 
of  Our  Blessed  Lady  of  the  forest. 

"  Look,  Joseph,"  said  a  Httle  fellow,  standing  be- 
side a  basket  which  was  covered  mth  burdock 
leaves,  "  Coaina  has  unrolled  the  banner,  and  is 
hanging  it  upon  the  wall  behind  the  altar.  Don't 
it  shine  ?  I've  seen  the  sky  look  so  often  when  the 
sun  goes  down." 


COAINA. 


e  they 
sacred 
slirino 

ng  be- 
irdock 
and  is 
Don't 
en  the 


**  Ugh  I  that's  a  grand  banner,  'Tony.  That  s 
th^  banner  that  the  ladies  of  Montreal  gave  to  the 
mission  a  long  time  ago.  They  worked  it  with 
their  fingers,  and  it's  full  of  real  gold,  pearls  and 
rubies,  and  was  blessed,  at  the  cathedral,  by  the 
great  chief  of  the  Church,  who  wears  a  pointed 
crown,"  replied  Joseph. 

"What's  all  that  upon  it,  and  what  does  it 
mean  ?"  asked  little  'Tony ;  "Do  you  know  Joseph  ?" 

"  Father  Etienne  took  me  into  the  chapel  once, 
and  unrolled  the  bamier  and  explained  it  all  to  me, 
because  I  did  not  miss  a  single  word  in  my  whole 
catechism,"  rep]ied  Joseph,  proudly.  "  I  will  tell 
you,  but  I  don't  know  whether  you'll  understand  it 
if  I  do." 

"  I'll  try,"  said  little  'Tony,  humbly. 

"  Well,  you  see  the  eagle  feathers,  the  bear  and 
the  arrows  and  things.  That's  the  iotem,  (coat  of 
arms,)  of  the  three  christian  tribes.  Under  that, 
all  in  gold — red  and  yellow  gold — with  rubies  done 
in  so  cunningly,  are  the  three  council  fires,  and 
over  all,  linked  with  the  rest,  you  see,  by  devices  of 
things  most  prized  by  our  people,  is  what  Father 
Etienne  called  the  Monogram  of  Jesus  Christ." 
Here  both  boys  bowed  their  heads  and  made  the 
sign  of  the  Cross.     "You  see,  'Tony,  that  is  all 


\' 


10 


COAINA. 


clone  with  gold,  and  silver,  and  pearls ;  but  what 
the  word  means  I  don't  exactly  know,  and  was 
ashamed  to  ask,  but  I  thought  maybe  it  was  His 
Holy  Name,  in  characters  which  I  did  not  under- 
stand." 

"  Thank  you,  Joseph.  Isn't  it  a  great  honor  to 
have  our  totem  on  the  banner  with  Christ's  ?"  said 
Httle  'Tony,  naively.  «  But  look,  Joseph,  at  that 
bright  star  upon  our  Blessed  Lady's  head !" 

"  Kaw !  it  is  the  sunshine  !"  said  a  lad  standmg 
by.  Not  irreverently,  however,  was  this  said.  The 
boy  was  only  constitutionally  matter-of-fact,  and 
could  not  make  a  star  out  of  sunsliine. 

"  Sunshine  is  the  light  of  the  Great  Spirit,  and 
it  doe^  look  like  a  star.  Anyhow,  don't  you  wish  it 
would  stay  there,  for  that's  the  way  I  think  she 
looks  in  the  land  of  the  Great  Spirit,"  said  httle 
'Tony  earnestly, 

"  WeU,  yes,  I'd  Kke  that  sunshine  to  stay  there  if 
it  could,  but  it  canH.  I'd  let  it  stay  if  I  could,  but 
/can't  either,  so  it's  no  use  to  be  wishing.  I'd 
crown  her  with  stars  if  I  could  reach  high  enough 
to  place  them,  but  as  I'm  not  high  enough,  we"!! 
have  to  croTvn  our  '  white  Mother,'  (a  name  b^ 
which  the  Indians  of  the  mission  called  her,)  ^vith 
flowers,"  said  the  matter-of-fact  lad,  moving  off. 


COAINA. 


11 


"  See  here,  Joseph,"  whispered  'Tony,  lifting  up 
the  burdock  leaves  that  covered  his  basket,  "  will 
these  do  for  the  crown  ?  I  found  them,  under  piles 
of  leaves,  down  in  the  glen,  near  the  dancing  wa- 
ters. Do  you  think  Coaina  will  make  a  garland  of 
them  for  Our  Blessed  Lady's  head  ?" 

"  Oh,  'Tony,  how  beautiful  1  where  did  you  find 
these  white  violets?  I  thmk  they  must  have 
bloomed  on  purpose  to  crown  our  Mother  on  the 
Feast  of  the  Assumption!"  exclaimed,  in  clear, 
pleasant  tones,  the  voice  of  a  beautiful  Indian 
maiden,  who  had  just  left  off  hanging  festoons  of 
Mowers  around  the  rustic  railing  which  enclosed  the 
altar,  to  come  in  search  of  fresh  mosses  for  the 
shrine,  and  flowers  to  crown  the  Tabernacle. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Coaina !  I  think  so,  too,"  said  little 
'Tony,  as  he  lifted  his  sparkling  eyes  to  her  face. 
"  I  found  them  down  by  the  dancing  waters,  in  the 
glen,  under  a  great  pile  of  leaves.  My  heart  sings 
Hke  a  bird  because  you  love  them,  Coaina." 

"  Yes,  'Tony,  these  are  lovely  !"  said  the  maiden, 
hfting  the  rich,  variegated  mosses  upon  which  the 
violets  rested.  "  So  hko  lier^'  she  murmured,  "  so 
fair,  yet  so  lovely;  so  pure,  yet  so  humble  ;  so  holy 
and  modest,  yet  concealing  all,  and  covering  her 
divine  hono-s  with  the  poor  garb  of  poverty  and 


12 


OOAINA. 


i  i 


lii 


II 


i  i 


seclusion.  Yes,  'Tony,"  said  Coaina,  aloud,  "  thcso 
look  as  if  each  one  had  dropped  from  a  star-don't 
you  remember  the  old  legend  I  told  you  the  other 
day  ?_and  we  wiU  crown  Our  Blessed  Lady  with 
them." 

As  this  is  not  a  fiction  which  we,  are  relating 
havmg  learned  the  facts  we  relate,  some  years  a-o' 

from  Monsignor  De  C ,  I  wiU  describe  Coaina' 

who  was  not  only  kno^vn  by  her  baptismal  name,' 
Coama  (Catharine),  but  was  so  beautiful,  and  so 
beloved  for  her  great  virtues  and  the  sweetness  of 
her  disposition,  that  her  people  of  the  mission  gave 
her  the  soubriquet  of  To-Mc~The  Kose.  As  Coaina 
stood,  holding  the  moss  and  violets  in  her  hands— 
the  sunlight  flickering  down  through  the  tremblin- 
foKage,  sprinkHng  her  from  head  to  foot  with  ghtter"^ 
mg  spots  of  gold-she  was  very  beautiful.    Her 
3kin  was  hke  the  pale,  amber-colored  satin ;  her 
forehead  low  and  broad;  her  nose  straight,  with 
tliin,  expanded    nostrils;  her    mouth,   smaU    and 
exqmsitely  formed,  was  rendered  more  beautiful  by 
the  white,  even  teeth,  which  the  slightest  smile  re- 
vealed ;  her  eyes,  fuU  of  mtelligence  and  spirit,  were 
softened  by  long  eyelashes,  and  cro^vned  by  brows 
so  evenly  arched  and  black  that  the  old  men  used 
to  laugh,  and  call  her  the  "daughter  of  the  two 


iiiiiii 


COAINA. 


13 


bows;"  tlie  head  was  OKqiiisitely  poised  on  her 
slender  and  graceful  neck,  and  covered  with  a  mag- 
nificent suit  of  glossy  black  hair,  whicli  she  wore 
simply  parted,  and  gathered  together  in  a  massive 
plait,  which  was  coiled  around,  and  fastened  to  the 
back  of  her  head  with  a  silver  arrow,  a  present 
fi-om  a  schoolmate,  wliile  she  was  at  the  convent 
school  of  Notre  Dame,  in  Montreal. 

The  crimson  blood  blushed  softly  in  her  cheek 
like  the  sun-tints  in  a  ripe  September  peach,  and 
her  hps  were  as  rnddy  as  the  hoUy  berries  that 
ghsten  in  coral  richness  amidst  the  snows  of  tU 
Canadian  forests. 

Yes,  Coaina  was  very  beautiful,  and  I  am  p^x*- 
ticular  in  describing  her,  because  her  young  life 
was  so  fuUy  offered  to  Him  who  fashioned  and 
formed  her  wonderful  lovehness,  and  modelle.1  so 
perfectly  on  the  virtues  of  her  whom,  from  all  eter- 
nity.  He  had  predestined  to  be  the  Mother  of  His 
Divine  Son. 

Coaina  was  dressed  accordmg  to  the  manner  of 
her  people.  She  wore  a  short  skirt  of  blue  and 
white  striped  woollen,  and  a  soft  doeskin  jacket 
curiously  embroidered  with  beads.  Her  moccasins 
were  also  cunningly  v/rought  in  gay  devices,  and 
her  leggings  of  scarlet  cloth  were  finished  with  a 


14 


COAINA. 


ill!: 


gay  little  fringo  of  featliers  at  tlio  seam.  Yet  over 
all  there  was  such  a  charm  of  modesty  that,  had 
she  been  a  veiled  vestal,  the  influence  of  her  purity 
could  not  have  been  more  felt  and  acknowledged. 
Around  her  neck,  suspended  by  a  finely  wrought 
silver  chain— the  gift  of  the  good  sisters  of  Notre 
Dame  to  their  pupil— Coaina  wore  a  medal  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  and  a  crucifix,  which  she  prized 
beyond  all  of  her  earthly  possessions,  and  which, 
as  she  stood  in  the  chapel  door,  ghttered  in  the 
sunlight,  as,  moved  by  the  pulses  of  her  heart,  they 
reposed  on  her  bosom. 

"  There,  Coaina,  will  these  be  enough  ?"  cried  a 
lad,  throwing  open  a  blanket  containing  thousands 
of  pine  blades,  odorous  with  bahns,  which  were  to 

be  spread  over  the  chapel  floor. 

"Not  quite  enough,"  she  repKed.     "Father  Eti- 

enne  Mkes  the  floor  well  covered,  Piquet ;  you  will 

run  back  to  the  pines  for  more." 

"  I  did  want  to  go  to  my  rabbit  snares  to  see  ho^t 

many  rabbits  I've  caught,"  said  the  Indian  lad ; 

"all  the  rest    got   rabbits    yesterday,  and  I  got 

nothing  but  a  musk-rat." 

"  Well,  Piquet,  if  ypi:  care  more  for  rabbits  than 

you  do  for  our  Mother's  festival,  begone!"  said 

Coaina,  gravely.     ""Wo  will  get  some  one  else  to 

serve  Father  Etiemie  at  Mass  tu  morrow." 


COAINA. 


16 


"  I  do  care  for  tho  rabbits,  Coaina,  but  I  won't 
give  up  the  festival.  Redpatli's  boy  and  two  others 
have  gone  into  tho  forest  with  their  bows  and 
an-ows,  and  won't  be  back  until  night ;  but— but—" 
and  the  boy's  dusky  face  flushed,  "  but  I  want  to 
do  something  for  our  Mother !" 

"  That's  brave,  Piquet,"  said  Coaina,  laying  her 
hand  gently  on  the  black  elf  locks  of  the  boy's 
head.  "  You'll  be  a  great  hunter  some  day.  The 
Great  Spirit  will  bless  you,  because  you  have 
courage  to  do  what  is  right.  Run  ojQf  now  to  the 
pines,  and  fetch  me  as  many  blades  as  the  blanket 
will  hold,  and  then.  Piquet,  the  day  after  to-mor- 
row you  shall  go  with  me  mto  the  forest  to  himt." 
Just  then  she  saw  approaching  the  young  chief 
Tar-ra-hee,  the  hereditary  sachem  of  her  people, 
and  she  turned  swiftly  and  resumed  her  labors  in 
the  chapel. 

"Wmonah,  will  you  fetch  in  the  flowers  and 
mosses  which  the  lads  have  brought  ?"  said  Coama 
to  a  young  Indian  girl  who  was  busied  about  the 
shrine  of  our  Blessed  Lady.  The  girl  came  for- 
ward with  an  impatient  air,  and,  although  she  bore 
a  family  resemblance  to  Coaina— being  her  cousin 
—no  two  persons  could  have  been  more  unlike. 
Winonah's  eyes  were  fierce  and  defiant,  wiih  a  cer- 
tain wild  Tet  repellant  beaut}  in  them  •  her  brow 


vn 


'I'  I 


16 


COAINA. 


wanted  the  breadth  and  serenity  of  Coaina's,  and 
her  handsome  mouth  wore  a  proud  and  scornful 
expression.  Her  attire,  without  being  immodest, 
displayed  in  its  gaudy,  flaunting  style  a  vitiated 
fancy,  and  a  vain,  ambitious  nature.  Trinkets 
glittered  in  her  ears,  on  her  wrists,  and  around  her 
slender  ankles,  while  in  her  black  hair  she  wore 
jauntily  an  eagle's  feather,  the  totem  of  her  father, 
who  had  been  one  of  the  gi-eat  chiefs  of  their 
people. 

"Why  not  fetch  them  yourself,  Coaina?"  she 
asked,  sharply,  "  or  make  the  boys  bring  in  the 
baskets?"  At  this  moment  she  caught  sight  of 
Tar-ra-hee,  who  lingered  still  about  the  cha})el 
door,  and  suddenly  smoothing  the  frown  from  her 
brow,  she  hastened  forward,  and,  without  seeming 
to  observe  his  presence,  began  coquetishly  to 
gather  in  the  flowers. 

"  See,  Coaina  !"  she  said,  "  these  asters  and  crim- 
son berries  will  make  such  a  lovely  wreath  for  Our 
Lady." 

"  I  think  these  will  be  more  beautiful,  because 
they  are  pure  and  white  like  her,"  said  Coaina, 
gently,  as  she  held  up  the  white  violets. 

"  No,  they  will  not  do  at  all,"  answered  Winonah, 
to  whose  intense   chagrin  the   young  chief    bad 


because 


COAINA.  17 

moved  away  without  noticing  licr  ;  "  I  won't  havo 
them ;  the  crown  must  bo  rich  in  color,  and  glow 
around  her  head  Hko  flames  of  red  and  gold.  Oh, 
what  a  crown  I  will  make  1" 

'"  What  is  the  dispute,  my  dear  children  ?"  in- 
quired a  voice  which  was  gentle,  but  quick  and 
firm  in  its  tones.  Both  girls  started,  as,  turning, 
they  beheld  Father  Etienne,  who  had  approached 
imseen,  standing  near  them.  Both  knelt,  asldng 
his  blessing— Coaina  with  head  bowed,  Winonah 
with  eyes  cast  down,  but  with  her  head  proutUy 
erect. 

"  Now,  my  dear  children,"  said  the  good  priest  of 
the  mission,  "  what  is  the  difficulty  ?  Speak,  Wino- 
nah, my  child  !"  With  a  ilushed  cheek,  Winonah 
told  liim  frankly  of  the  difference  of  opinion  be- 
tween herself  and  Coaina  about  tjie  garland,  with- 
out exj^laining,  however,  the  secret  cause  of  her 
jealous  and  angry  interference,  and  showed  him  the 
flowers  of  her  choice,  and  those  of  Coaina's. 

"  Make  garlands  of  yours,  my  child,  and  festoon 
the  mossy  walls  of  our  Blessed  Lady's  shrme,  they 
wiU  indeed  look  rich  and  briUiant  there,"  said 
Father  Etienne,  gently;  "but  these  must  crown 
her— these  fair  and  modest  flowers,  so  symbolic  of 
her  pure  holiness.     Yes,  Coaina,  my  child,  you  are 


Illil 

"ii 

ii: ! 

1  I 


18 


COAINA. 


right — mako  of  thorn  a  raro  garhind,  to  crovvii  and 
honor  hor  on  the  Foast  of  hor  AssnniiHion.  So 
far,  ovorytliing  is  beautifully  arranged — ah — yoH — 
the  banner  is  just  in  the  right  place.  "  See,  chil- 
dren, that  the  floor  is  well  strewn  with  pine  blades," 
added  Father  Eticnno,  looking  around  with  an  air 
of  satisfaction,  after  which  ho  walked  away,  bless- 
ing the  children  who  were  grouped  around  tho 
chapel,  who  clung  to  his  hands,  and  tho  skirts  of 
his  long  solitary,  as  long  as  he  would  stay. 

"  Now,"  said  Winonah,  when  he  was  well  out  of 
hearing,  turning  to  her  cousin  with  an  angiy  coun- 
tenance, "  as  you  rule  here,  tell  me  what  I  am  to 
do." 

"  Let  us  help  each  other,  sister,"  said  Coaina, 
gently. 

"It  was  my  wish  to  make  the  wreatii  for  our 
Mother,"  said  Winonah. 

"  You  shall  make  it,  Winonah.  I  was  coming  to 
ask  you,  because  I  have  the  tabernacle  to  dress, 
and  so  many  other  things  to  do." 

"  No ;  if  I  can't  make  a  fine  flaming  wreath  of 
the  flowers  that  I  like,  I  shall  have  notliiig  to  do 
with  it — ^you  can  make  it  youi'self,  and  dc  tVe  other 
things  beside,"  replied  Winonah,  tossing  he  proud 
head. 


i  ! 


COAINA. 


10 


"As  you  wish,  my  sister,  only  lot  us  have  the 
chapel  ready  for  the  morrow,"  said  Coaina.  "  Como, 
children,  bring  in  the  flowers  and  mosses,  and  let 
us  all  work  together."  And  with  good  will  tlu^  all 
obeyed  her  directions,  for  she  was  the  directness  of 
the  sanctuary,  chosen  by  the  vote  of  the  congrega- 
tion from  aniong  her  young  companions  for  the 
oflice,  on  account  of  her  piety,  docility,  modesty 
a'hd  amiability. 

But  Winonab  hhd  no  intention  of  leaving  the 
decorations  of  the  chapel  entirely  in  the  hands  of 
Coaina,  to  hear  on  the  morrow,  from  every  lip  : 
"Coaina  made  that!"  "Coaina  hung  those  gar- 
lands!" "Coaina,  and  none  but  she,  could  have 
made  our  chapel  so  beautiful !"  "  What  would  be- 
come of  us  without  Coaina  to  decorate  it  for  the 
festivals !"  and  a  thousand  other  expressions  of  the 
like  character.     She  had  vented  her  angry  spite  on 
her  cousin,  and  now  she  would,  to  please  her  own 
sinful  vanity,  take  part  in  the  preparations,  and 
only  do  that  portion  of  the  work  which  was  agree- 
able to  herself.    In  a  few  moments  she  was  busy 
twisting  vines  around  the  cedar  pillars  which  sup- 
poi    '.T    he  roof  of  the  chapel ;  now  she  climbed 
Lghtiy  to  the  rafters,  and  hung  the  cross-beams 
with  festoons  of  green,  from  which  v/ere  suspended 


rM 


II 


w 


\ 


ll  Ij'  M 


Ml  i 


UO 


COAINA. 


the  scarlet  trumpet-flower  and  wild  grapes,  unti] 
Solomon's  Temple,  with  all  its  precious  carvings, 
and  traceries  of  fruit  and  flower,  was  not  more 
beautifid.  Still  tripping  along  tlio  rafters,  with  the 
agility  and  lightness  of  a  bird,  she  added  a  cluster 
of  golden-rod  here,  of  the  crimson-tinted  sumack 
there,  of  white  hnmortcUes  here,  of  wild  roses  there, 
weaving  in  the  asters  and  other  flowers  with  cun- 
ning skill  among  the  green  leaves  and  graceful 
tendrils  of  the  vines,  until  her  task  was  finished. 
"  Oh,  how  beautiful !  Winonah,  how  beautiful !" 
exclaimed  Coaina,  as  turning  from  the  tabernacle, 
wliose  decoration  she  had  just  completed,  she 
looked  up  and  saw  the  really  charming  effect  pro- 
duced by  Winonah's  taste. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  was  Winonah's  ungracious  reply, 
"  that  Father  Etienne  will  not  Hke  it,  so  long  as 
you  did  not  do  it." 

"  Never  fear  that,  my  sister,"  answered  Coaina, 
in  the  simpHcity  of  her  heart ;  "  it  is  more  beautiful 
than  anytliing  I  could  do." 

As  the  sun  dechned  toward  the  west,  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  morrow  were  nearly  completed.  The 
floor  was  strewn  with  blades  of  the  odorous  pine, 
every  footstep  that  pressed  them  distilling  a  subtle 
aroma ;  the  altar  was  a  glowing  mass  of  verdure 


i 


COAINA. 


21 


eted.     The 


and  flowers.     Our  Lady's  grotto  had  been  lined 
with  fi-esh  mosses,  a  coronal  of  white  violets  en- 
circled her  brow,  and  a  white  lily,  found  among  the 
sedges  of  the  lake,  was  placed  in  her  folded  hands. 
The  front  of  the  grotto  was  draped  and  festooned 
with  Tines  bearing  rich  hued. flowers,  among  which," 
half  hidden  by  the  leaves,  hung  the  wicker  cages, 
containing  birds,  who  uttered  sweet  wild  notes  of 
wonder,  as  they  fluttered  in  their  airy  prisons,  to  be 
captives  until  to-morrow  eve,  when  the    festival 
would  end— then,  at  the  chapel  door,  amidst  the 
laughter  and  happy  converse  of  the  children  of  the 
congregation,  Coaina  would  unfasten  the  door  of 
each  cage  arid  release  them,  gi\dng  them  freedom, 
air,  sunshine  and  their  homes  far  off  in  the  depths 
of  the  forest.     This  joyful  little  ceremony  generally 
closed  the  festival  days  of  the  mission,  and  was 
particularly  enjoyed  by  the  young  people  of  the 
congregation. 

But  the  last  gUttering  rays  of  the  setting  siui 
shoot  between  a  gorge  in  the  hills,  and  sparkle  here 
and  there  like  sacramental  lamps— now  upon  the 
jeweled  folds  of  the  mission  banner,  now  upon  the 
gilded  door  of  the  tabernacle,  now  upon  the  bur- 
nished head  of  the  crucified  Christ,  now  creeping 
like  a  flame  along   the  silver  fringe  of  the  altar 


m 


h 


m 


22 


COAINA. 


cloth.  A  quiet  and  solemnity  now  reign  where  so 
short  a  time  before  was  heard  a  busy  hum.  Here 
and  there  kneel  groups  of  those  who,  havuig  com- 
pleted the  preparations  for  the  festival,  now  exa- 
mine their  consciences  for  confession.  Coaina  knelt 
close  beside  the  slnine  of  the  Blessed  Lady,  partly 
concealed  by  the  flower-wreathed  pillars  near  it. 
Amidst  this  devout  silence,  Father  Etienne  enters 
with  the  most  Blessed  Sacrament,  which  he  deposits 
in  the  tabernacle,  while  every  head  is  bowed  low  in 
adoration  of  that  grand  and  mysterious  Presence. 
He  now  takes  his  seat  in  the  confessional,  and  soon 
is  heard  the  low  whisperings  of  penitent  hearts,  as 
one  after  another  approach  the  tribunal.  Dim 
shadows,  thrown  by  the  purple  twilight,  steal  in  at 
the  open  door,  and  with  them  come  the  old  and 
young  of  the  mission,  walldng  silently  and  reve- 
rently, wrapped  in  their  toga-Hke  blankets ;  their 
dusky,  grave  faces,  and  long  black  hair,  hanging 
loose  about  their  shoulders,  their  noiseless  motions 
and  immobile  features  adding  to  the  solemn  effect 
and  sacred  repose  of  the  consecrated  place.  The 
women  knelt  apart  from  the  men,  clustering  around 
the  shrine  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  their  little  children 
kneehng  beside  them,  lisping  their  innocent  prayers 
— all   modestly  attired,  and   all   devout,  save  one, 


'!  I  '■ 


COAINA. 


23 


^al,  now  exa- 


who,  taU  and   shapely,  and  of  a  proud,  haughty 
demeanor,  knelt  in  a  conspicuous  place,  where  the 
trinkets  in  her  ears,  and  the  tinselled  embroidery 
of  her  mantle  sparkled  brightly  in  the  light  of  the 
sanctuary  lamj),  while  her  eyes,  large  and  restless, 
roved  critically  and  inquiringly  around  her,  show- 
ing that  her  heart  was  but  httle  in  unison  with  the 
whispered  prayers  on  her  lips,  as  she  shpped  the 
beads  of  her  rosary  rapidly  through  her  fingers. 
This  was  Altoninon,  the  mother  of  Winonah,  and 
the  aunt  of  Coaina,  whom  she  had  adopted  in  her 
orphaned  infancy,  and  reared  in  her  own  lodge. 
Some  one  in  a  distant  part  of  the  chapel  arises  to 
approach  the  confessional,  and  when  she  sees  that 
it  is  Tar-ra-hee,  the  young  chief,  she  no  longer 
looks  around,  but  with  an  expression  of  satisfaction 
appears  to  recollect  herself  and  attend  more  de- 
voutly to  her  prayers.     Thus  it  was  within  the  mis- 
sion chapel,  but  outside,  wrajiped  in  their  blankets, 
stood  two  forms,  their  sharp,  piercing  black  eyes 
scanning  the  scene  within,  while  an  expression  of 
contempt  and  disgust  pervaded  their  countenances. 
One  was  very  old,  and  was  named  Ma-kee  (Knife). 
He  was  by  descent  half  Huron,  half  Algonquin,  and 
bad  never  been  baptized,  but  hved  peaceably  among 
the  christian  Indians  of  the  mission,  some  of  whom 


'.  ill 
1 1*  I 


iil 


COAINA. 


U  I 


were  liis  near  relations.  Tlie  other  was  a  dissolute, 
handsome  and  unbaptized  young  Iroquois  chief, 
from  the  neighboring  village,  called  Ahaeek  (the 
Deer),  who,  having  heard  a  rumor  of  the  prepara- 
tions, had  come  down  to  the  Algonquin  village  to 
see  what  was  going  on,  hoping  that  he  should,  by 
some  chance,  get  a  ghmpse  of  Coaina,  whose 
beauty  and  grace  had  made  a  profound  impres- 
fiion  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  II. 


COAINA. 

The  Festival  of  the  Assumption  closed  with  the 
riingmg  of  the  Litany  of  Loretto  by  the  congrega- 
tion, the  sacred  melody  being  led  by  the  powerful 
and  flute-like  voice  of  Coaina.  Swelled  to  a  vol- 
ume of  rich  sound,  the  holy  chaunt  floated  out 
upon  the  calm  evening  air,  its  solemn  echoes  lost, 
in  low  reverberations,  in  the  shadowy  forest.  Pur- 
ple shadows,  cast  by  the  mountains,  lay  upon  the 
lake  aiia  shore  while  the  pines  and  fii-s  along  the 
ridges  were  fringed  with  the  gold  of  sunset.  Ero 
tong,  the  inliabitants  of  the  village  assembled  in  a 


COxVINA. 


25 


58d  with  the 


gi'ove  surrounding  the  great  lodge,  where  the  chief 
men  were  accustomed  to  hold  council,  and  debate 
on  any  question  wliicli  arose  respecting  the  inter- 
ests of  their  people.     The  chiefs  and  the  old  men, 
with  Father  Etienne  in  tlieir  midst,  sat  around  the 
door  of  the  lodge,  placidly  smoking,  tolling  tradi- 
tions of  the  old  iierce  wars  with  the  Hurons  and 
Mohawks,  going  over  again  the  thrilling  adventures 
of  their  great  hunting  expeditions  to  the  jiortliwost, 
or  listening  to  Father  Etienne's  thrilling  naiTatives 
of    the   early  French   missions   in   Canada.     Old 
Ma-kee,   over  whose  head  the   snov/s   of    nearly 
eighty  winters  had  fallen,  formed  one  of  the  group. 
Seated  upon  the  grass  near  Father  Etienne,  wrapped 
in  his  blanket,  with  his  chin  upon  his  breast,  he 
listened.     He  seldom  spoke,  for  as  he   declared, 
"  his  breast  was  heavy  at  the  degeneracy  of  his 
people,  who  had  become  women ;"  and  when  he 
did,  it  was  to  scoff  at  the   new  creed  they  had 
adopted,  which  he  emphatically  called  the  "  smoke 
of  foohshness."     But  the  claws  and  fangs  of  the  old 
lion  were  gone  ;  he  was  harmless,  and  out  of  chris- 
tian charity  he  was  allowed  a  place  of  honor  among 
his  people,  mth  a  comfortable  support,  in  the  hope 
that,  ere  he  died,  his  pagan  dnrkness  would  pass 
away,  and  he,  at  least,  receive  the  purifying  sacra- 


;i     1 


26 


COAINA. 


ment  of  baptism.  Ma-kee  had  great  faith  in,  and 
respect  for,  Father  Etienne,  whom  he  knew  to  be  a 
brave  as  well  as  a  good  man ;  but  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  tell  him,  on  occasions,  that  there  was  no 
reason  or  sense  in  what  he  taught,  because  no  man 
could  understand  it.  And  in  tliis  the  old  pagan 
was  no  worse  than  the  materialists  of  tliis,  our  day, 
who  reject  the  mysteries  of  faith  because  their 
human  reason  cannot  reduce  them  to  its  own  level. 
Father  Etienne  was  relating  the  marvellous  escape 
of  the  French  missionaries,  nearly  two  centuries 
ago,  and  many  of  their  catechumens,  from  iLo 
house  of  Saint  Mary's,  of  Ganentaa,  just  when  the 
Onondagoes  had  conspired  with  the  Mohawks  to 
massacre  every  soul  of  them.  He  described,  with 
great  spirit,  the  ingenuity  and  courage  of  the  mis- 
sionaries in  effecting  their  escape,  and  the  speech- 
less amazement  of  their  foes  when  they  found  the 
house  so  mysteriously  abandoned.  All  listened 
with  profoundest  interest,  the  twinkling  of  keen 
black  eyes  and  an  occasional  grunt  of  approval  ex- 
pressing their  delight.  When  Father  Etienne 
ceased  speaking,  old  Ma-kee  lifted  up  his  head  and 
spoke  :  "  My  grandmother,"  he  said  slowly,  "  re- 
membered John  Brebeuf.  She  was  a  Huron. 
When  he  was  dying  under  the  torture ;  when  hia 


COAINA. 


27 


fingers  and  thumbs  were  cut  off;  wlien  he  was 
pierced  with  lighted  spHnters,  torn  with  scourges 
and  hacked  with  hatchets,  many  of  the  prisoners 
around  him,  who  had  hkewiso  been  tortured  all 
night,  begged  him  for  baptism.  He  had  no  water , 
none  would  give  him  a  drop.  The  day  dawned ;  at 
sunrise  they  were  all  to  be  put  to  death.  The  piis- 
oners  begged  for  baptism  ;  there  was  not  a  drop  of 
water.  Brebeuf  lifted  his  hands  and  eyes  to  the 
Great  Spirit  and  prayed.  Just  then,  my  grand- 
mother, very  young  at  that  time,  came  from  the 
fields  with  her  arms  full  of  maize  stalks.  The  lonsr 
leaves  and  tassels  were  dripping  with  dew  ;  it  hung 
upon  them  hke  rain-drops.  He  saw  it,  and  asked 
her  for  one  of  the  stallLS.  He  spake  our  language. 
She  had  helped  to  torture  him,  but  she  was  a 
woman.  She  gave  him  two  or  three.  He  grasped 
them  with  joy  ;  he  bade  the  prisoners  look  up  ;  he 
sprinkled  them ;  he  signed  the  cross  in  the  air  over 
tlieir  heads  Avith  the  maize,  and  so  they  were  bap- 
tized with  the  dews  of  heaven  and  his  own  blood. 
I  think  that  was  enough.  But  Brebeuf  was  a  brave 
man.  He  died  like  a  warnor  ;  he  should  have  been 
an  Indian,  ugh !"  Having  spoken,  the  dusky  old 
pagan  i^Tapped  his  blanket  about  him,  and  agaui 
dropped  his  head  upon  his  breast,  leaving    his 


^,.|. 


!  i 


I 


I'm   ! 


28 


OOAINA. 


liearers  variously  affected  by  liis  simple  and  true 
narrative. 

At  some  little  distance  from  the  great  lodge,  and 
nearer  the  lake,  Avere  the  women,  the  young  people 
and  children  of  the  village,  standing  or  sitting  in 
picturesque  groups  under  the  trees  and  along  tlie 
sliore.  Some  exercised  themselves  by  running, 
dancing  and  leaping ;  others  sought  amusement  in 
more  quiet  ways,  while  many  played  simple  games 
with  shells  and  plum-stones,  peculiar  to  their  cus- 
toms. Blithely  arose  their  cheerful  voices  in  pleas- 
ant converse  and  innocent  laughter,  while  each  face 
wore  a  look  of  contentment  and  enjoyment.  "We 
said  that  every  face  wore  a  glad  expression ;  that 
was  a  mistake,  for  x4.1tontinon,  who  sat  apart  from 
the  rest,  gorgeously  attired,  as  usual,  looked  dissat- 
isfied ;  but  no  queen  ever  wore  her  royal  robes 
more  proudly  than  she  wore  her  coronal  of  blue 
and  scarlet  feathers,  her  necklace  and  earrmgs  of 
silver  beads,  and  her  embroidered  scarlet  mocca- 
sins and  mantle.  She  was  the  widow  of  the  de- 
ceased sachem  of  her  people,  and,  in  de^'p-ult  of  a 
son  to  inherit  the  dignity  and  title,  had  the  mortifi- 
cation of  seeing  it  pass  to  the  son  of  her  husband's 
brother,  the  present  chief,  Tar-ra-hee,  whose  bap- 
tismal name  was  Cyril.     Bitterly  disappointed,  and 


!  ilii! 
I  litJ! 


111 


COAINA. 


2'J 


obliged  to  bear,  not  only  her  own  mortification,  but 
that  of  her  kinsmen,  it  became  a  grave  considera- 
tion how  to  retrieve  the  loss.     The  idea  suddenly 
presented  itself  to  her  scheming  mind,  one  day,  to 
marry  her  daughter,  when  of  a  proper  age,  to  Tar- 
ra-liee.     Once  admitted,  this  idea  became  the  ruling 
motive  of  her  Hfe ;  she  was  prepared  to  sacrifice 
cverytliing  to  its  accomplishment,  and  so  pledged 
herself  to  her  kinsmen,  who  gave  it  their  hearty 
approval.     Altontinon  kept    up   a  land   of    state 
around  herself,  which  no  one  cared  to  interfere 
with  ;  for  although  she  was  a  chiistian,  she  was  not 
a  saint ;  in  fact,  so  far  from  being  a  saint,  she  was 
-I  don't  know  whether  there  is  a  n.ame  in  any  In- . 
dian  dialect  for  it — but,  in  plain  English,  she  was 
a  termagant.     This  woman  had  taken  Coaina,  who 
was  loft  an  orphan  at  a  very  early  age,  and  nursed 
her  at  her  breast  with  her  own  child,  who  was,  to  a 
day,  of  the  same  age     Strange  to  say,  she  had 

"-he  stormed  at  her  now 
'<^ery  that  she  spared 
whole,  kind  to  her.  In 
the  perilous  journeys  of  the  tribe  to  the  distant 
1  muting  gi-ounds,  so  full  of  hardships  and  priva- 
tion, she  cared  as  tenderly  and  constantly  for  the 
young  Coaina  as  for  Winonah,  and  ever  took  the 


loved  Coaina,  and  y 
and  then,  and  set  her  t  , 
Wmonali,  she  was,  upon 


i, 


30 


COAINA. 


!i        1 


same  pains  in  teaching  lior  those  arts  and  accom- 
phshmeuts  so  necessary  to  the  complete  training  ot 
an  Indian  girl.  Coaina  was  skilful  and  expert  in 
them  all.  She  excelled  all  of  her  young  compan- 
ions in  domestic  handicraft ;  she  was  more  expert 
in  dressing  skins  and  dying  quills  and  feathers  ; 
more  skilful  in  fishing  and  hunting  ;  more  agile  in 
running  and  climbing  ;  more  ingenious  in  embroid- 
ermg  and  fashioning  the  garments,  which  she  made 
with  such  celerity  ;  and  more  quick  in  acquiring 
knowledge  fi'om  the  books  she  was  permitted  to 
read  than  any  young  person  in  the  village.  Her 
school  tasks  were  never  neglected;  her  religious 
duties  never  omitted,  and  as  she  grew  towards 
womanhood,  there  was  developed  in  her  character 
so  much  purity,  vii'tue  and  excellence,  that  she  was 
not  only  the  favorite  of  the  village,  but  was  con- 
stantly held  up  by  parents  to  their  children  as  a 
model  for  their  imitation.  She,  unconscious  of  her 
superiority,  was  so  modest  and  affectionate,  so  gene- 
rous and  cheerful  that,  with  the  exception  of  one,  no 
heart  felt  mahce,  envy  or  ill-will  towards  her,  and 
that  heart  was  Altontinon's,  who  had  noticed  all 
this  with  ever-increasing  discontent,  and  whose 
chagrin  was  now  completed  by  the  fact  tlia't  Coaina 
had  become  far  more  beautiful  than  "Winonah ;  that 


COAINA. 


81 


Bhe  was  more  intoUigont  and  more  beloved.    Hero 
wiis  a  cloud,  and  from  it  dropped  tlie  very  gall  and 
wormwood  of    bitterness  into  Altontinon's    soul. 
Then  arose  the  fear  or  presentiment  that  the  supe- 
rior attractions  of  her  niece  would  frustrate  all  of 
her  plans  for  her  child's  union  with  Tar-ra-hee. 
Henceforth  her  jealous  misgivings  gave  her  no 
[)(3ace,  and  on  several  occasions,  when  she  fancied 
indications  on  the  part  of  the  young  chief  of  ad- 
miration for  Coaina,  she  became  almost  fi-enzied 
with  rage.     Coaina  felt  keenly  the  change  in  her 
aunt's  conduct  towards  her,  and  although  her  un- 
kindness  cost  the  poor  child  many  a  bitter  tear,  she 
remained  dutiful  and  patient,  bearing  all  her  hu- 
mors with  sweetness  and  in  silence,  and  sought 
refuge  and  consoli\tion  only  at  the  feet  of  Mary,  to- 
wards whom  she  had  ever  cherished  the  most  reve- 
rent and  tender  devotion,  by  whose  Hfe  she  had 
modelled  her  own,  and  whose  gracious  assistance 
she  constantly  implored.    About  this  time  Coaina 
was  placed,  by  Father  Etienne,  at  the  head  of  the 
female  confi-aternity  of  the  Immaculate  Heart  of 
Mary,  a  position  which  Winonah  expected    and 
hoped  to  receive.     This  added  fuel  to  the  flame  in 
the  heart  of   the  mother  and  daughter,  who,  by 
many  a  sneer,  taunt  and  slight,  aroused  every  in- 


32 


COAINA. 


dignant  emotion  in  Coaina's  nature,  ami  rcnclorcd 
her  life  almont  unendurable. 

But  as  the  storm.s  and  rains  of  March  vivify  and 
strengthen  the  roots  of  the  forest  trees,  so  did 
these  tempests  of  ill-will  and  malice,  which  beat  so 
perpetually  and  harslily  against  her,  strengthen  her 
soul,  vivify  her  faith,  and  sweeten  with  eternal  fra- 
gi'ance  the  sweet  blossoms  of  humility  that  had 
such  deep  root  in  her  soul.  Then  arose  another 
cause  of  bitter  envy  and  jealousy.  On  a  certain 
occasion  the  two  ghls  were  permitted  to  go,  with 
a  party  of  their  kinsmen,  to  Montreal  to  sell  their 
boad-work  and  foathers.  Father  Etienne  gave  them 
a  letter  of  uitroduction  to  the  Superior  of  the  Con- 
vent of  Notre  Dame,  who  not  only  received  them 
kindly,  but  hitroduced  them,  at  the  hour  of  recrea- 
tion, to  the  religious  of  the  house,  and  also  to  the 
lady  pensioners  of  the  academy.  The  beauty  of 
the  two  Indian  maidens,  the  artless  gi*ace  and  mod- 
esty of  Coaina,  the  proud  mien  and  wildly  bright 
eyes  of  Winonah,  their  excellent  French,  their  low, 
sweet  modulated  voices  and  unsophisticated  expres- 
sions, won  upon  every  heart.  The  lady  pensioners 
were  half  wild  with  admiration  of  these  beautiful 
Algonquin  princesses,  and  purchased  everything  in 


ft 


!    1 


iffi 


COMNA. 


88 


tlioir  baskets,  bositles  making  thorn  prcsoiits  of  pic- 
tures and  little  oriitinieiitH  iii  gold  and  precious 
stones,  which  tliey  took  from  their  own  ears  and 
lingers. 

Not  very  long  after  this  visit,  Fatlier  Etienno 
received  a  letter  from  the  lady  superioress  of  this 
convent,  in  which  she  spoke  of  the  visit  of  Coaina 
and  her  cousin,  and  after  expressing  the  most 
friendly  sentiments  towards  both,  offered  to  receive 
Coaina  at  the  academy  as  a  pensioner  for  six 
months ;  at  the  expiration  of  which  term,  she  would 
also  receive  Winonah  for  the  same  poricjd.  After 
duo  considtation  with  her  friends  and  kinsmen,  it 
was  agreed  that  Coaina  should  accept  the  advan- 
tages offered  by  this  kind  invitation,  and  Father 
Etienno  accompanied  her,  himself,  to  Montrt^al. 
Altontinon  would  have  prevented  it,  had  she  dared, 
but  she  had  made  up  her  mind,  that  in  all  that  she 
intended  doing  to  carry  out  her  plans,  no  agency  of 
hers  should  be  apparent ;  she  w^as  too  proud,  and 
prized  the  position  she  held  too  higlJy,  to  be 
willing  to  lose  caste,  so  she  gave  a  cold  assent  to 
Coama's  going,  while  she  fumed  in  secret,  and 
poisoned  still  more  Winonah's  mind  ngainst  her 
hmocent  cousin.     She  told    her,  under  a   sncred 


34 


COAINA. 


promise  of  secrecy,  all  that  slio  designed  to  do  for 
her  advantage,  and  found  in  the  ambitious  girl  a 

willing  ally. 

Coaina  was  very  happy  in  Montreal.    Every  ono 
in  the  convent  loved  her,  and  took  great  pains  in 
assisting  her  through  her  tasks.     Quick  and  appre- 
ciative in  everything  they  taught  her,  above  all  she 
showed  such  a  passion  for  music,  and  so  astonish- 
ingly was  her  talent  developed  by  a  little  instruc- 
tion, that  she  was  regarded  almost  as  a  prodigy. 
Her  voice  was  of  such  surpassing  sweetness  and 
compass,  so  full  of  a  certain  ivild  life,  that  ere  long 
she  was  permitted  to  sing  in  the  chapel  choir, 
where,  her  heart  overflowing  with  the  love  of  Jesus 
and  Mary,  she  sang  the  Salve  Begina,  with  such 
sweetness  and  fervor  that  the  notes  soared  and 
floated  with  thrilling  effect  above  the  grand  thunder 
tones  of  the  organ. 

When  the  six  months  had  expired,  the  good 
Sisters  of  Notre  Dame  would  fain  have  detained 
her ;  they  were  unwilling  to  lose  their  beautiful 
favorite,  but  she  desired  to  go,  that  she  might  take 
the  place  of  Winonah  in  her  aunt's  lodge,  and  be 
to  her  indeed  a  daughter,  in  the  place  of  her  absent 
child.  So  she  returned  to  the  "  Lake  of  the  Two 
MounI  ains,"  and  to  her  home,  the  same  humble- 


COAINA. 


35 


minded,  light-hearted,  simple  child  as  she  left ;  and 
forgetful  of  the  past,  she  remembered  only  the  debt 
of  gratitude  she  owed  her  benefactress,  and  deter- 
mined to  be  more  scrupulous  than  ever  in  the  cLis- 
charge  of  the  duties  she  owed  her.  There  was 
great  joy  in  the  village  when  she  came  back.  Old 
and  young  had  a  pleasant  greeting  for  her  ;  Father 
Etienne  gave  her  his  blessmg  with  his  welcome ; 
the  children  brought  flowers  and  birds  for  her  ac- 
ceptance, and  the  old  pagan  Ma-kee  lifted  up  his 
head  and  said  :  "  The  sunshine  has  come  back  to 
us,  and  the  song  of  birds.     It  is  good." 

Winonah  was  kindly  received  at  Notre  Dame, 
but  having  no  talent  for  music,  and  but  little  apti- 
tude for  study,  the  httle  she  gamed  served  but  to 
increase  her  self-conceit  and  vanity ;  and  at  the 
expiration  of  her  term,  she  was  hill  of  anger  and 
ingratitude  against  the  good  Religieuses,  because 
she  had  failed  to  learn  what  thej^  found  it  impossi- 
ble to  teach  her.  This,  so  far  fi'om  imputing  to 
her  own  want  of  caj^acity,  she  charged  to  their 
indifference.  This  added  fresh  zest  to  the  hatred 
of  Altontinon  for  the  innocent  Coaina  ;  but  she 
dared  not,  as  we  said  before,  brave  public  opinion 
by  open  acts  of  violence  to  her ;  therefore,  like  the 
wily,  malicious  woman  she  was,  she  bided  her  time, 


III 


'■I 


» f 


,11 1 


.  \ 


i.!:i:i!' 


36 


COAINA. 


and  watched  for  her  opportunity  to  give  crashing 
effect  to  her  revenge. 

Thus  matters  stood  in  the  village  of  the  "  Lake 
of  the  Two  Mountains,"  up  to  the  day  on  which 
our  little  narrative  opens,  and  we  are  happy  to  say 
that  no  more  digressions  will  occur,  having  put  our 
patient  readers  in  possession  of  aU  the  necessary 
facts  to  enable  them  to  comprehend  as  mournful  a 
tragedy  as  was  ever  wiitten,  crowned  by  as  saintly 
a  martyrdom  as  the  world  ever  knew. 

Altontinon  sat  alone,  stiU  watching  her  daughter, 
who  was  sportmg  with  other  girls  of  her  age  on  the 
margm  of  the  lake,  and  wondering  what  had  be- 
come of  the  young  chief,  Tar-ra-hee,  whom  she  had 
not  seen  since  Vespers.     Her  keen,  restless  eyes 
had  been  seeking  him  for  the  last  half  hour,  but  as 
yet  he  had  not  appeared,  either  among  the  cliicf 
men  at  the  grand  lodge,  or  with  the  young  people 
on  the  shore.    She  became  impatient,  and  was 
about  to  rise  up  from  her  seat,  to  walk  round  m 
search  of  him,  when  some  one  suddenly  approached 
her,  and  askod,  in  a  quick,  impatient  tone :  "Alton- 
tinon, where  is  Coaina  ?" 

She  started  round,  and  Tar-ra-hee,  the   young 
chief,  stood  before  her. 


COAINA. 


37 


"  Ts  she  not  with  her  companions  down  there  by 
the  lake  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  will  go  and  seek  her  !"  he  replied. 

Now  old  Ma-kee,  walking  slowly,  approached  her 
and  asked  :  "  Where  is  Coaina  V" 

"Ask  me  where  your  grandmother's  ghost  is?" 
she  said,  sharply.     "  I  do  not  know  where  she  is." 

"Altontinon,  your  rattles  grow  finelj'^,"  replied 
the  pagan,  moving  on. 

"  Where  is  Coaina,  my  child  ?"  inquired  Father 
Etienne.     "  I  have  not  seen  her  since  Vespers." 

''I  have  not  seen  her  for  more  than  an  hour,  my 
father.  Perhaps  she  is  in  the  chapel,"  she  replied, 
more  respectfully.  He  went  away.  Group  after 
group  of  young  people  approached,  one  after  the 
other,  all  maldng  the  same,  inquiry. 

"  We  are  waiting  for  her  to  begin  blind  man's 
buff,"  said  one. 

''  We  are  waiting  for  her,  to  dance.  Tar-ra-hee 
is  asking  for  her,"  said  another. 

"  We  want  her  to  sing  for  us  ?"  said  the  children. 

"  We  can't  get  along  without  Coaina !"  cried 
one. 

"  Everybody  wants  her  !  where  is  she  ?"  screamed 
another. 


It  :    ,  ..;; 


!    •■! 


I    ■    i 


38 


COAINA. 


Almost  beside  herself  with  fury,  Altontinon,  who 
rostruincd  herself  with  difficulty,  j)rofesscd  to  be 
ontiioly  ignorant  of  the  whereabouts  of  Coaina, 
and  she  was  finally  left  alone,  but  not  long  ;  for 
presently  Httle  Tony  straggled  up  and  asked  the  so 
oft-repeated  question  :  "  Wliere  is  Coaina  ?"  and 
received  for  answer  a  rousing  slap,  full  on  the  side 
of  his  tawny  cheek,  wliioh  sent  him  roaring  away. 
Soon  after,  Tar-ra-hee  came  back,  his  gay  feathers 
nodding  over  his  head,  his  silver  ornaments,  and  a 
gold  medal  sc;nt  him  by  the  English  queen,  glitter- 
ing in  the  last  glimmer  of  sunset — so  full  of  life 
and  courage,  so  graceful  and  noble  m  his  bearing 
that,  for  an  instant,  Altontinon  was  lost  in  admira- 
tion ;  but  his  words  recalled  her  to  her  own  train 
of  thonght,  and  again  plunged  her  into  the  abyss 
of  her  o\vn  malicious  intentions,  for  he  asked  if 
she  had  yet  seen  Coaina. 

"  I  have  not  seen  her  ;  can't  the  stars  shine  with- 
out Coaina  ?  can't  the  wind  blow  ?"  she  answered, 
in  suppressed  rage. 

"  No,  the  stars  do  not  shine  for  me  when  Coaina 
is  away,"  replied  the  young  chief,  with  a  p^oud 
nod."     It  grows  always  dark." 

•'  Coaina  no  longer  heeds  me  ;  she  is  beginning 
to   have  lovers.    Ahdeek,  the  Iroquois,  has  been 


COiVINA. 


39 


around  my  lodge  lately.  Perhaps  if  you  can  find 
him,  Coaina  will  not  be  far  off,"  said  Altontinon. 

The  young  chief  started  and  turned  upon  his 
lieel,  stung  sharply,  but  too  proud  to  question  his 
tormentor.  Altontinon  thought,  "  he  will  now  seek 
Winonah,"  and  watched  eagerly  to  see  if  he  went 
towards  her,  but  he  strode  off  in  quite  another  di- 
cection,  and  she  lost  sight  of  him. 

Tar-ra-hee  wandered  listlessly  and  moodily  on, 
heedless  <  .  whither  he  was  going,  when  he  suddenly 
halted  and  bent  his  head  in  a  hstening  attitude ; 
then  a  gleam  of  joy  lit  up  his  swarthy  features. 
He  was  within  a  short  distance  of  Altontinon's 
lodge,  and  had  heard  Coaina's  voice  singing,  in  low 
sweet  tones,  one  of  the  hymns  of  the  mission.  He 
sprang  forward,  and  swiftly  made  his  way  thither. 
It  was,  indeed,  Coaina,  seated  at  the  door  of  the 
lodge,  with  the  soft  moonlight  falling  upon  her  up- 
raised face.  She  heard  advancing  footsteps ;  the 
i>ext  moment  Tar-ra-hee  stood  beside  her.  A  deep 
blush  crimsoned  her  cheeks  ;  she  arose  and  saluted 
him,  with  downcast  eyes. 

"  I  have  come  for  you,  Coaina.  Your  compan- 
ions await  you  on  the  shores  of  the  lake.  Come !" 
he  said. 

"  Did  my  aunt  send  for  me  ?"  3he  asked. 


11 


fl 


41 


Ir! 


40  COAINA. 

"  No." 

"  I  cfinnot  come  :  do  not  wait." 

"  I  will  wait.    Yon  sliall  como  !"  he  said  quickly. 

"  Cjiil !"  exclaimed  Coaina,  who  always  called 
him  l)y  his  christian  name. 

"  Forgive  me,  Coaina  ;  come  !"  he  pleaded. 

"  No  ;  I  cannot  go.     You  must  return  to  them. 

"  I  shall  stay  here,"  he  said,  in  a  determined 
tone. 

"  Don't — don't !  you  must  go  away !"  she  said, 
earnestly. 

"  I  must  go  away  !"  he  said,  angrily.  "  Do  you 
send  others  away  ?    Why  must  I  go  ?" 

"  Ah,  Cyril,go,  and  do  not  be  angry,  my  friend," 
she  said,  while  big  tears  rolled  over  her  cheeks. 
"  I  have  something  to  do — a  duty  which  I  must  not 
neglect — and  should  you  stay  away  and  bo  found 
here  with  me !  ah,  Cyril,  don't  you  see  how  ill  it 
would  look  ?" 

"  Listen,  Coaina,"  said  the  young  chief,  gravely  ; 
"  I  will  obey  you  now,  but  give  ear  to  my  words, 
and  open  your  heart  to  take  them  in.  My  lodge  is 
empty,  and  before  another  moon  I  will  rise  uj)  in 
the  council,  and  ask  for  you  to  be  my  wife." 

A  soft  blush  suffused  Coaina's  lovely  face,  and  a 
dreamy  smile  chased  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  buf 


COAINA. 


41 


she  only  said  :  "  Go,  now,  C^tII,  my  brother  ;  leaye 
me." 

"  I  go,  Coaina,"  but  when  the  moon  rises  to  the 
height  of  yonder  red  star,"  he  said,  pointing  to  one 
overhead,  "  you  will  hear  my  flute  not  far  off  from 
the  lodge  ;  ^vill  you  listen  to  what  it  tells,  Coaina?" 

"  I  will  hsten,  my  brother,"  she  promised.  Then 
he  turned,  and  moving  swiftly  away,  was  lost 
•^.mong  the  shadows  of  the  night. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  SHADOWS  OF  THE   STORM. 

The  exultant  gleam  faded  from  Altontinon's  eyes, 
for  no  sooner  had  Tar-ra-hee  left  her  than  she  felt 
that  her  anger  had  got  the  better  of  her  craft ;  and 
if  she  wished  to  succeed  in  her  wicked  designs,  it 
was  a  most  impolitic  way  to  begin  by  offending 
him. 

On  that  very  day  she  had  inaugurated  her  mali- 
cious work.  She  had  positively  forbidden  Coaina 
to  leave  the  lodge  that  evenmg,  and  had  uttered  a 
slander  against  her  to  Tar-ra-hee,  by  coupling  her 
name  with  that  of  Ahdeek,  the  Iroquois,  wliich  she 


!  i  :  11 


!  il 


ri 


42 


COAINA. 


■' 


Wcis  crafty  enough  to  know  would;  ac  some  time  or 
other,  help  to  serve  her  purpose.  Slie  watched  his 
retrcatmg  figure,  satisfied  that  at  least  she  had  pre- 
vented him  from  seeing  Coaina  that  evening ;  but 
when  she  saw,  in  the  distance,  that  he  turned  into 
a  lane  of  cedars  which  led  to  her  own  lodge,  her 
baffled  rage  almost  suffocated  her.  "  He  would  see 
Coaina,"  she  thought ;  "  he  will  find  out  that  her  ab- 
sence from  the  innocent  enjoyments  of  the  evening 
was  compulsory,  and  having  discovered  tliis,  would 
suspect  her,  and  give  no  credit,  henceforth,  to  any- 
thing she  might  assert  to  Coaina's  injury." 

The  longer  she  sat  there  brooding  over  the  fail- 
ure of  this,  her  first  steps  towards  the  accomplish- 
ment of  her  ambitious  scheme,  the  more  intense 
gi'ew  her  hatred,  and  forgetting  that  All-Seeing 
Eye,  before  w^hich  the  profoundest  secrets  of  the 
soul  are  nakedly  unveiled,  forgetting  all  the  divine 
teachings  and  claim  of  religion,  forgetting  death 
and  the  judgment,  she  vowed,  "vvith  a  bitter  curse, 
that  she  would  succeed  in  what  she  had  under- 
taken, even  if  Coaina's  reputation  and  life  be  the 
sacrifice. 

But  her  guilt}^  fears  were  somewhat  lulled  to  rest 
when,  later  in  the  evening,  she  again  saw  Tar-ra- 
hee  among  the  young  folks,  and  observed  that  he 


COAINA.  43 

showed  much  attention  to  Winonah,  who  exerted 
all  of  her  coquettish  wiles  and  arts  to  charm  him. 

The  moon  had  arisen,  full  and  unclouded,  over 
the  mountain,  and  everythinj^  ghstened  in  her  rays 
as  if  frosted  with  silver.  The  festival  was  over, 
and  the  people  were  returning  to  their  peaceful 
homes. 

Altontinon,  wxdl  pleased  at  the  notice  bestowed 
upon  her  daughter  by  the  young  Algonqum  chief, 
walked  slowly  homeward,  full  of  thought  concern- 
ing the  advantages  of  a  marriage  between  them. 
Winonah  tripped  along  lightly  over  the  dewy  turf, 
a  little  in   advance   of  her  mother,   whose    eyes 
watched  lovingly  the  gracefully  moving  form,  whose 
every  motion  threw  out  sparkles  and  flashes  from 
the  spangles  and  gold  fringes  which  adorned  her 
tunic  and  moccasms.     How  she  loved  the  girl,  but 
how  savage  and  pagan  was  the  h^ve  which  gave 
birth  to  sins  which  would  incur  the  displeasure  of 
God,  and  wound  afresh  the  tender  hearts  of  Jesus 
and  Mary.     It  is  said  that  wdien  a  soul  voluntarily 
seeks  evil,  the  prince  of  evil  is  ever  ready  with  op- 
portunities to  serve  its  purpose,  and  so  it  seemed 
to  be  on  this  occasion. 

Among  the  Iroquois  who  lived  in  the  adjoming 
village,  there  w^ere  some  few  who,  rejecting  Christ, 


■!    '     I 


COAINA. 

prcHOivccI  their  own  lioathcnisli  tr;i(Iitif)ns,  c\\m<* 
to  tlio  niH'iont  cuHtoniH  of  tlioir  ancestors,  and,  it 
was  whisporod,  pra(;ticed  in  secret  their  idohitrous 
rites.  But  as  tliey  were  peaceable,  and  olwerved 
all  the  civic  rules  of  the  mission,  and  interfered  in 
no  way  with  their  christian  kinsmen  or  people,  their 
prosenco  was  tolerated,  hi  the  pious  hope  that, 
after  a  season,  thej  might  bo  induced  co  follow 
then*  example.  Among  these  was  their  hereditary 
chief,  Ahdeok,  (Reindeer,)  who  had  often  distin- 
g-uishcd  himself  in  their  great  hunting  expeditions, 
and  excelled  in  all  those  accomplishments  mt^yt 
highly  prized  and  appreciated  by  the  Indians.  Ali- 
deek  was  handsome,  vain,  passionate,  and  it  was 
said  that  he  was  dissolute  in  his  habits.  He  had 
frequently  seen  Coaina,  and  had,  in  various  ways, 
endeavored  to  win  a  smile  fi-om  her,  by  expressing 
his  admiration  by  signs,  gifts  and  words ;  but  she 
had  invariably  repulsed  every  advance  he  hfid 
made,  and  turned  from  him  with  a  fi'own  of  dis- 
pleasure whenever  he  ventured  to  approach  her ; 
but  all  this  only  incited  him  to  more  persevering 
efforts  to  ^vin  her. 

On  the  evening  of  the  festival  he  had  strolled 
down  towards  Altontinon's  lodge,  with  scarcely  a 
purpose  except  to  be  near  the  home  of  Coaina,  for 


COAINA. 


46 


lie  supposed  her  to  be  absent  at  the  fostiyal,  when, 
to  his  great  joy,  lio  saw  her  standing  in  tlio  moon- 
light, loaning  against  tlio  nioss-covorod  stile  that 
led  to  the  lodge.     She  was  reciting  the  rosary,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  cloudless  heavens,  and  thinking 
that,  as  the  moon  was  throned  in  ghttering  beauty 
among  the  luminous  stars,  so  was  the  Blessed  Vir- 
gin throned  in  heaven,  and  surrounded  by  the  glo- 
rious angels,  whoso  queen  she  is.     It  was  a  consol- 
ing and  beautiful  thought,  and  as  they  twinkled  and 
trembled   in  dewy  splendor,  flashing  out  rays  of 
crimson,  blue  and  gold,  Coaina  almost  imagined 
that  she  saw  the  flutter  of  their  glorious  wings  as 
thoy  bowed  before  their  queen. 

"  Left  all  alone,  like  a  wild  pigeon  in  the  empty 
nest !  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Coaina,"  said  the  au- 
dacious Iroquois,  who  had  approached  her  miseeu 
and  unheard. 

"  Ahdeek !"  exclaimed  Coaina,  starting ;  « I  wish 
you  well,  but  you  must  go  away  this  instant.  I  am 
all  alone." 

"  That  is  good ;  now  I  can  say  to  you,  face  to 
face,  what  you  are  blind  and  deaf  to  in  signs.  I 
love  you." 

"  Esa !  Esa !  shame  on  you  !  Ahdeek,  leave  me  1" 
she  cried. 


p  ■ 


46 


COATNA. 


"  I  will  become  a  chriHtian,  Coaimi,  if  you  will 
boar  mo !"  bo  plead. 

"  To  b(3como  a  clnistian  will  bo  a  glorious  tiling, 
Abdeek  !  but  go  ;  Fatber  Etienue  will  iiLstnict  and 
baptize  you." 

"  No ;  I  learn  tbe  cbristian  creed  from  you  or 
none.  I  tbougbt  you  cbristians  would  give  your 
bfe  to  save  a  houI." 

"  So  would  I  lose  mine  to  save  your  soul,  Alideek, 
but  I  sliall  never  enter  your  lodge  ;  I  can  never  bo 
more  to  you  tlum  a  fiiend.  I  will  pray  for  you. 
You  mu8t  now  go  away,"  and  Coaina  turned  from 
him  and  Hwiftly  entered  the  lodge,  while  he,  bailled 
and  angry,  strode  olT,  almost  knocking  Altontinon 
down,  ho  came  so  suddoidy  against  her.  She,  as 
keen-eyed  as  a  vulture,  had  seen  him,  as  she  ap- 
proached her  lodge,  talking  Avith  Coaina.  At  first 
she  thought  it  was  Tar-ra-heo  standing  at  the  stile, 
but  when  she  discovered  it  wa^  Ahdeek,  the  Iro- 
quois, she  said  :  "  Alia  !  yes  !"  and  rejoiced  in  her 
wicked  heart,  because  she  knew  that  liis  having 
been  there  would  help  her  evil  plans ;  then  asking 
Ahdeek  if  "  he  kept  his  eyes  in  his  pocket  that  ho 
might  run  people  down  in  his  path,"  she  went  into 
her  dwelling,  and  calUng  Coaina,  assailed  her  with 
the  most  violent  abuses ;  affecthig  to  beUeve  that 


COAINA, 


47 


she  had  rnonivod  tho  Iroquois  as  lior  lov.>r  in  lior 
iibHenco,  hIk^  uttorod  tlio  luoHt  injurious  iuHinuatiouri, 
nor  would  slu^  li.ston  to  Coaiua'n  explanations,  Init 
protended  to  booutra-ed  and  grieved  and  liorritied 
at  her  conduct,  called  her  a  hypocrite,  and  finally 
struck  her  in  the  face. 

• 

Almost  stunned  by  the  injustice  and  violence  of 
lior  aunt's  conduct,  Coaina,  \Wthout  attempting  to 
speak  aJiotlK^r  word  in  her  own  def  use,  withdrew 
to  her  own  little  apartment,  and  dropping  the  cur- 
tain of  skins  which  separated  it  from  the  rest  of  the 
lodge,  she  threw  herself  prostrate  upon  the  floor 
before  the  blessed  images  of  Jesus  and  Mary— of 
Jesus,  in  His  bloody  coronal  of  thorns— of  Mary, 
of  the  seven  dolors.     She  watered  the  floor  with' 
her  tears  ;  she  offered  her  griefs  to  them,  and  finally 
found  consolation  in  the  generous  resolve  she  made 
to  suffei^  patiently  all  the  unmerited  reproaches  she 
had  received,  for  them  who  had  suffered  so  wilHng- 
ly  ten  thousand  more  infinite  and  bitter  griefs  for 
her. 

At  last,  her  head  resting  upon  her  arm,  she  fell 
asleep,  and  was  refreshed  by  the  dreams  of  inno- 
cence. Once  only  did  she  awake.  She  had 
dreamed  of  her  dead  mother,  as  she  sometimes 
did,  and  thought  she  was  singing  a  soft  lullaby  to 


4B 


COAINA. 


her,  whose  strange,  unearthly  melody  thrilled 
through  her  heart,  and  awoke  her.  At  first,  she 
did  not  know  whether  she  was  awake  or  still  dream- 
ing, for  she  heard,  while  the  whippowil  sent  his 
lamentations  abroad  through  the  forest,  and  the 
screech  owl  answered  in  shriU  vibrations,  the  sweet 
wild  notes  of  a  flute,  breathing  assurances  of  a 
pure  affection.  Then  she  remembered  Tar-ra-hee's 
promise,  and  while  a  soft  glow  stole  over  her  tear- 
stained  face,  she  commended  herself  to  the  protec- 
tion, of  the  Blessed  Vkgin  and  fell  asleep. 

Like  a  fair  prairie  blossom  agitated  by  the  morn- 
ing winds,  and  scattering,  in  prodigal  brightness, 
the  dew-drops  from  its  rich  petals,  so  Coaina  threw 
off  the  sense  of  ill  which  oppressed  her  when  she 
first  awoke.  The  first  red  beams  of  the  newly- 
risen  sun  shone  through  the  vines  that  partially 
shaded  her  window,  and  bathed  in  light  the  sacred 
images  of  Jesus  and  Mary,  which  stood  upon  a 
little  shelf  at  the  foot  of  her  bed.  "  My  Holy 
Mother  and  Advocate,"  she  murmured,  folding  her 
long,  tapering  hands  together  as  she  knelt  before 
them,  "  look  at  thy  divine  Son,  and  obtain  for  me 
a  patience  like  unto  thine." 

Her  simi)le  toilet  was  soon  made,  and  hurrying 
out  to  the  chajDcl  she  knelt  in  her  favorite  place. 


COAINA. 


49 


close  beside  the  altar  of  the  Blessed  Lady,  and  as- 
sisted at  Mass  with  the  greatest  devotion.  Be- 
tween the  sweet  and  glorious  mystery  of  the  altar 
and  the  benign  presence  of  Mary,  Coaina's  whole 
being  reposed,  as  in  a  safe  haven,  secure  from  the 
rude  storms  that  threatened  her. 

Tar-ra-hee  served  Father  Etienne  at  the  altar 
that  morning,  as  he  was  frequently  in  the  habit  of 
doing,  and  it  was  a  touching  sight  to  see  tliis  noble 
young  savage  bowing  in  such  sweet  subjection  to 
Christ ;  to  see  his  strong  arms  folded  in  meek  and 
childlike  devotion;  his  proud,  handsome  head 
bowed,  in  unquestioning  faith,  before  the  Lord  of 
lords,  whom  he  received  humbly  and  reverently  un- 
der the  form  of  Bread. 

For  several  days  nothing  occurred  to  interrupt 
the  tranquillity  of  the  Village  of  the  Lake.  Alton- 
tinon  behaved  to  Coaina  with  a  certain  grave  dis- 
pleasure, and  when  she  addressed  her,  spoke  in  a 
tone  so  harsh  and  sneering  that  she  was  deeply 
pained ;  but  feeling  innocent  of  offense  and  guilt- 
less of  crime,  she  omitted  none  of  her  duties,  and 
persevered  in  all  her  accustomed  attentions  to  her 
aunt  and  cousin,  hoping,  by  patience  to  overcome 
evil,  and  by  prayer  to  turn  their  hearts  forgivingly 
towards  her.    She  observed  that  Altontinon  had 


<    I 


■I ''-' 


8 


60 


COAINA. 


many  and  long  secret  conferences  witli  several  of 
her  kinsmen  and  friends,  and  was  surprised,  once 
or  twice,  to  see  her  in  close  conversation  with  Ali- 
deek,  the  Iroquois. 

Tar-ra-hee  had  not  approached  her  since  the 
night  of  the  Festival  of  the  Assumption ;  she  only 
heard  his  flute,  now  and  then,  under  the  trees 
around  the  lodge,  and  except  that  Father  Etienne 
and  her  friends  around  the  village  greeted  her  as 
kind  as  ever,  and  the  little  children  gathered  about 
her  and  hung  upon  her  skirts  whenever  she  ap- 
peared among  them,  she  would  have  indeed  felt 
friendless. 

The  clouds  were  gathering  around  her,  and  their 
shadows  were  discerned  by  her  delicate  and  sensi- 
tive perceptions  ;  she  knew  not  whence  they  were 
comhig,  or  in  what  storms  they  would  burst ;  she 
trembled  with  the  chill  that  often  swept  over  her  ; 
she  felt  that  no  mortal  could  help  her  in  this  mys- 
terious coming  woe ;  but  the  darker  grew  her 
dread,  the  closer  she  clung  to  the  shelter  of  the 
sanctuary,  the  oftener  she  fortified  her  sovl  with 
the  divine  sacraments,  and  with  more  constant  fer- 
Tor  did  she  kneel  at  Jhe  feet  of  Mary,  imploring 
her  gracious  protection. 

But  one  day  the  clouds  seemed  suddenly  to  dis- 


OOAINA. 


61 


perse,  and  again  streamed  the  sunshine  into  Co- 
aina's  heart.     Father  Etienne  walked  into  Altonti- 
non's  lodge  while  herself  and  daughter  were  par- 
taking of  their  evening  meal,  and  Coaina,  who  was 
no  longer  permitted  to  eat  at  the  same  board  with 
them,  sat  apart,  busily  engaged  upon  a  piece  of 
needle-work.    Each  one  arose  to  welcome  him  ;  he 
returned  their  salutations  with  a  cheerful  air,  and 
taking  the  chair  placed  for  him,  he  drew  it  to  the 
side  of  Coaina,  and  sat  down.    Altontinon's  guilty 
heart  was  agitated  by  this  unexpected  visit ;  but 
when  the  good  priest  announced  the  object  of  it, 
she  felt  as  if  a  bolt  of  ice  had  suddenly  fallen  upon 
it.     "  I  have  not  only  brought  you  my  blessing  to- 
day, my  good  children,"  he  said,  "  but  also  most 
excellent  tidings.     Tliis  morning,  while  the  assem- 
bly were  in  council,  dehberating  about  the  sale  of 
some  lands  on  the  St.  Lawrence,  which  they  finally 
decided  not  to  sell,  Tar-ra-hee  stood  up  and  de- 
clared his  mtention  to  make  our  child  here,  Coaina, 
his  wife,  and  asked  the  consent  and  approval  of  all 
present,  including  myself.     There  was  not  a  single 
voice  raised  in  dissent  against  it ;  in  fact,  there  was 
a  murmur  of  satisfaction  very  audible,  for  we  all 
knew,  Altontinon,  how  precious  is  To-hic  to  her 
people.     They  are  all  proud  of  their  'rose,'  and 


62 


OOAINA. 


each  onp  felt  that  tlio  young  cViof's  choice  of  n 
bride  was  not  only  a  wise  one,  but  a  special  plea- 
sure ^o  each  individual  present.  Wlieu  I  was 
callo^'.  upon  for  an  opinion — sit  still,  Coaina — I  not 
rnly  hastily  approved  of  Tar-ra-hee's  choice,  but 
assured  him,  before  all  present,  that  in  such  a  union 
he  would  find  all  the  good  and  happiness  that,  hu- 
manly speaking,  one  could  expect ;  after  which," 
continued  Father  Etienne,  laying  his  hand  gently 
upon  Coaina's  bowed  head,  "  the  assembly  ratified 
its  solemn  approval  and  formal  consent,  and  I  hur- 
ried here  to  be  the  first  to  bring  the  joyfid  news  to 
your  aunt,  and  give  my  blessing  to  the  betrothed  of 
the  good  and  brave  Tar-ra-hee." 

"  Thank  you,  my  father,  for  your  goodness,"  she 
said  gently,  and  without  lifting  her  modestly  do^vn- 
cast  eyes ;  "  Cyril  is  genorous,  but  it  is  best,  my 
father,  not  to  hope  for  too  much.  I  have  some- 
times seen,"  she  said,  lifting  her  great  soft  eyes, 
and  looking  before  her  -with  a  strange,  far-off  ex- 
pression, "  the  day  which  rose  the  brightest  close 
in  wild,  wintry  tempests." 

"  Coaina,  my  child,  these  are  dreams.  It  is  the 
christian's  duty  to  receive  with  joy  and  gratitude 
whatever  good  our  Father  sends,  without  throwing 
a  veil  of  cloud  and  doubt  over  His  gifts,"  said  Fa- 


OOAINA. 


53 


tlier  Etienne,  cheerfuUy ;  but  many  and  many  a 
time  smce  has  he  remembered  her  looks  and  words 
that  day. 

"I  will  try,  my  father,  to  be  grateful— to  be  duti- 
ful ;  but  there's  something,"  she  said,  passing  her 
hand  over  her  forehead  and  eyes,  "  there's  some- 
tiling  like  a  mist— I  don't  know  what  it  is,  but  it 
seems  to  shut  out  the  sunshine." 

"  Coaina,"  said  the  good  father,  « if  you  were  a 
pale-face,  I  should  say  you  have  the  vapors.  You 
have  been  keeping  in-doors  too  much  of  late,  and 
stooping  too  long  at  a  time  over  this  everlasting 
bead  work  and  stitching.  Altontinon,  see  to  it,  or 
we  shall  have  a  burial  instead  of  a  bridal." 

"  I  will  see  to  it,  my  Father,"  rephed  Altontinon, 
with  a  double  meaning ;  then  dissemblmg  with  L 
self-possession  worthy  of  a  better  cause,  she  ralhed 
Coaina  while  she  congratulated  her,  and  pretended 
to  be  highly  delighted  at  the  aUiance.  «  Leave  her 
\vith  me,  my  father,"  she  continued,  "  she  is  only 
coy— you  know  how  modest  Coama  is— she  has  to 
tlimk  a  Kttle  while— where  a  girl  has  two  or  three 

lovers,  it  is  difficult  to  decide  all  at  once " 

"  My  father,"  said  Coaina,  in  response  to  Father 
Etienne's  look  of  inquiry,  « I  have  no  lover-that 
is.,  I  shdl  be  the  wife  of  Cyril,  or  none.     He  is  aU 


r 


I 


■  II 


iit 


PI  § 


54 


OOAINA. 


that  I  could  ask  or  desire."  Coaina  knew  that  her 
aunt  meant  mischief  ^y  this  hint,  and  that  she  re- 
ferred to  Ahdeek,  the  Iroquois  ;  slie  therefore  an- 
swered as  she  did,  with  a  shght  hesitation,  because 
she  remembered  that  Ahdeek  had  presumed  to  call 
himself  her  lover ;  and  such  was  the  tender  and  sa- 
cred regard  which  this  young  Algonquin  maid  had 
for  the  truth,  that  she  would  not  fully  deny  her 
aunt's  statement,  lest  she  should  thereby  offend  the 
truth. 

"  Well,  well,  my  child,  cheer  up !  You  have  a 
happy  future  ahead.  Altontinon,  hurry  the  wed- 
ding preparations,  for  I  am  sure  Tar-ra-hee  will 
not  desire  a  very  long  delay,"  and  Father  Etienne, 
giving  but  little  thought  tJien  to  what  .ad  passed 
during  the  interview,  hurried  up  to  the  Iroquois 
village  to  one  or  two  sick  persons  who  needed  his 
ministrations. 

The  news  flew  through  both  villages,  in  an  in- 
credibly short  time,  that  Tar-ra-hee  had  chosen  the 
Eose  of  the  Algonquins  for  his  bride.  Coaina  re- 
ceived the  hearty  congratulations  of  old  and  young, 
of  friend  and  foe,  until  she,  to  escape  their  friendly 
jests,  and  the  incessantly  repeated  good  wishes  of 
those  who  constantly  crowded  to  see  her,  generally 
slipped  away  from  them,  and  by  a  back  path  found 


'i  !ill' 


COAINA. 


i;6 


i^^i  way  to  the  chapel,  to  offer  her  newly-found  hap- 
piness to  the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  hide  her  modest 
blushes  in   the    shadow  of    the    sanctuary.     We 
spoke  of  Coaina's  "friends  and  foes."     It  is  mar- 
vellous that  so  pure  and  Wely  a  nature  should 
have  a  foe ;  but  alas !  it  is  a  world  old  stoiT  how 
vn-tue  ever  excites  mahce  ;  beauty,  envy;  pr;sper- 
ity,  covetousness  ;  and  feUcity,  hatred  and  iU-wiU  • 
so,  after  aU,  it  is  not  strange  that  our  Rose  of  the' 
Algonqmns  had  her  enemies  who,  to  conceal  their 
plans  for  her  ruin,  assumed  the  guise  of  friendship 
and  were  loud  in  their  protestations  of  dehght  at 
her  good  fortune. 

Never  was  happiness  and  prosperity  borne  with 
greater  modesty.     The  cloud  that  had  shadowed 
her  heart  seemed  to  have  passed  away.    Altonti- 
non  and  her  cousin  were  more  kind,  and  the  strong 
protecting  love  of  her  betrothed,  gave  her  a  feelin- 
of  tranquil  happiness.    No  duty  was  left  neglected  • 
no  kmdness  left  undone  ;  no  pleasure  or  assistance' 
that  she  could  afford  was  withheld.    SkiUed,  as  we 
said  before,  in  hunting  and  fishing,  she  brought  the 
choicest  dainties  of  the  lake  and  forest  to  her  aunt's 
lodge,  and  so  deftly  did  she  perform  aU  her  tasks 
so  important  had  she  become  to  Altontinon's  com- 
fort and  Winonah's  whims,  that  her  aunt  began  to 


56 


OOAINA. 


feel  what  a  terrible  loss  Coaina  would  bo  to  lier 
This  was  another  incentive  to  her  to  carry  out  her 
selfish  and  malicious  plots  against  the  guileless 
maid,  for  whose  approaching  marriage  the  most 
splendid  preparations  known  to  these  primitive 
people  were  in  progress. 


CHAPTER  rV. 


"beware  of  the  snake,  to-hio. 

It  is  well  for  the  reader  of  this  narrative  to  keep 
this  fact  in  view :  that  had  the  young  chief  of  the 
Algonquins  united  himself  in  marriage  with  Wino- 
nah,  it  would  have  increased  the  dignity  and  conse- 
quence of  her  mother's  family,  as  it  would  have 
secured  to  them  the  chieftainship  and  grand  totem 
of  the  tribe.  Bitterly  disappointed  in  their  ambi- 
tions and  selfish  asijirations,  angry  and  disturbed 
in  mind,  they  were  prepared  to  unite  with  Alton- 
tmon  in  any  plan  she  might  suggest  to  them  to 
break  off  a  marriage  so  disastrous  to  their  schemes 
of  arrogance  and  pride.  It  seems  strange  to  asso- 
ciate the  vices  of  civilization  with  the  characters  of 


A 

I!   illil! 


CO/VINA. 


57 


an  Indian  story;   but    beHeve  me,   friends,   that 
human  nature,  unless  wonderfully  dignified    and 
hallowed  by  grace,  is  the  same  latent  savage  every- 
where, which    only  requires  ch-cumstances,  in    a 
greater  or  less  degree,  to  rouse  him  from  his  lair  m 
the  heart  to  seek  his  greed  or  revenge.    Let  us  not, 
then,  be  too  much  surprised,  however  much  we  may 
feel  grieved  at  the  depravity  of  these  disappointed 
people,  or  deem  incredible  the  events  which  follow. 
It  was  not  long  before  whispers  began  to  float 
about  to  the  injury  of  Coaina,  which  at  first  only 
excited  a  scornful  expression  of  denial  fi-om  her 
friends.     She,  all  unsuspicious  of  the  plots  agamst 
her  happmess,  was  as  blithe  as  a  bird,  wonderinc/ 
often,  in  her  sweet  humihty,  why  she  should  be  so 
blessed  !     Her  eyes,  like  a  young  doe's,  grew  softer 
and  more  lummous,  and  her  voice,  ever  trillino-  in 
sweet  cadences,  like  the  wild  bu-ds  of  the  forest, 
became  more  low  and  gentle,  and  was  only  heard 
when  her  full  heart  sought  to  give  expression  to 
her  grateful  happiness,  smging  the  beautiful  Hta- 
nies  and  touching  hymns  of  the  mission. 

Not  the  least  rejoiced  of  all  her  friends  was  old 
Ma-kee,  the  unbaptized,  who  would  sit  watching 
her— often  in  her  aunt's  lodge  ;  sometimes  on  the 
shore  ;  sometimes  at  the  door  of  the  chapel,  while 


58 


OOAINA. 


sliG  adorned  the  shrine  of  the  Lady  with  flowers — 
his  withered  face  wearing  a  grave  and  pleased  ex- 
pression, and  only  breaking  the  silence  to  take  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  say  :  "  Ugh !  it  is  good !" 
The  affection  of  this  old  pagan  for  Coaina,  I  have 
sometimes  thought,  in  connection  with  her  sad 
stoiy,  was  a  grace  bestowed  upon  him  for  that  act 
of  charity  showed  by  his  grandmother  to  the 
martyr  Brebeuf ! 

Of  those  most  enraged  at  Coaina's  approaching 
marriage,  was  Ahdeek,  the  Iroquois,  who  found  a 
ready  sympathizer  in  Altontinon,  and  readily  en- 
listed in  the  service  to  aid  in  the  accomplishment 
of  that  which  would  finally  throw  Coaina,  helpless 
and  defenceless,  in  his  power.  He  was  now  fi-e- 
quently  seen  at  Altontinon's  lodge.  This  was  not 
agreeoble  to  Tar-ra-hee,  who,  without  suspecting 
any  designs  against  his  betrothed,  nevertheless  so 
despised  the  low  vices  of  Ahdeek,  that  he  could  not 
bear  to  know  the  air  she  breathed  was  contami- 
nated with  his  presence,  and  desired  her  to  hold  no 
intercourse  with  him,  but  leave  the  lodge  whenever 
he  came  into  it,  which  she  invariably  did. 

Day  after  day  rolled  on,  and  the  month  of  the 
faUing  leaves  had  come.  The  frosts  had  tinted  the 
leaves  with  the  most  gorgeous  hues  of  crimson  and 


COAINA. 


59 


orange,  which,  blending  with  green  and  russet,  and 
relieved  by  the  rich  evergreens  of  cedar,  pine  and 
hemlock,  gave  to  the  forests  the  appearance  of  a 
gi-and  parterre.     Nature  seemed  to  be  preparing 
her  robes  for  a  grand  festival,  instead  of  a  burial. 
There  is  sometliing  sublime  in  this  glorious  passing 
away  of  summer,  as  if  in  thus  gathering  about  her 
departure  a  splendor  symbohc  of  a  glad  obedience 
to  the  law  of  the  great  Creator,  she  offers  a  holo- 
caust of  precious  adoration,  and  crowned  with  a 
silvery  nimbus  expires  like  a  blood-stained  martyi^ 
fuU  of  the  joyful  hope  of  a  resurrection  to  come! 
Taking  their  lessons  from  the  dying  year,  it  is  not 
strange   that  the  Indians,  in  the  primitive  days, 
should  have  chanted  their  death-song,  when  life' 
was  passmg,  their  eyes  fixed  in  hope  on  the  setting 
sun,   whose    radiance,  they  believed,  illuminated 
the  pathway  to  the  himting  grounds  of  the  Great 
Spirit. 

Tlie  Indians  of  the  mission  of  the  Lake  of  the 
Two  Mountains,  were  preparing  for  two  gi-eat 
events— one  was  the  marriage  of  their  chief,  which 
Father  Etienne  desired  should  be  celebrated  with 
gi-eat  solemnity,  not  only  to  impress  upon  his 
people  the  dignity  of  the  sacrament,  but  to  offer  to 
Tar-ra-hee  and  Coaiua  a  tribute  of  respect,  which 


t  1; 


MMH 


(U) 


COAINA. 


ho  considered  tliem  eminently  wortliy  of ;  the  othoi 
was  the  annual  migration  of  the  tribe  to  the  liunt- 
iug  ^-ounds  of  the  Northwest. 

The  young  ladies  of  Montreal,  who  had  known 
and  loved  Coama  at  the  Convent  of  Notre  Dame, 
sent  her  a  magnificent  bridal  present  of  a  dress  of 
blue  velvet,  made  in  the  stylo  of  the  picturesque 
attire  she  wore  when  they  first  saw  her,  embroidered 
with  silver,  and  a  veil  of  blue  crape  covered  with 
spangles.     They  knew  her  singidar  devotion  to  the 
Blessed  Yirgin,  and  thought,  justly,  that  the  pres- 
ent would  be  more  acceptable  if  composed  of  her 
colors.    In    the    same    box,  neatly    packed,   and 
directed  to  their  beloved  pupil,  was  a  wi'eath— 
made  by  the  nuns,  with  the  permission  and  ap- 
proval of  their  superior— composed  of  deUcately 
tinted  feather  flowers,  among  which  were  woven 
clusters  of    Roman  pearls.     Directed    to  Father 
Etienne's  care,  he  no  sooner  opened  the  box  than 
he  sent  for  Coaina,  to  whom  he  presented  them 
with  genuine  pleasure. 

"  My  father,"  said  Coaina,  looking  upon  the  costly 
presents  spread  out  before  her,  "  these  are  very  rich 
and  beautifi-J  !  They  are  too  fine  for  mc.  I  should 
be  ashamed  to  wear  them.  I  have  i^repared  a 
more  simple  and  befitting  attire." 


COAINA. 


61 


"Coaina,  my  child,  tlieso  tliinjrg  mnst  be  worn, 
according  to   tlio  intention  which  i>roniptcd  tlie 
gifts     You  cannot  refuso  to  do  so  without  appear- 
ing proud  and  ungrateful,  which  you  are  not.     If  I 
thought  they  would  give  birtli  in  your  heart  to  one 
single  throb  of  vanity,  I  should  at  once  advise  you 
to  bum  them  up.    But  wear  them,  my  child  -it 
will  please  your  good  friends  in  Montreal ;  it  will 
please  Tar-ra-hee  and  your  people  to  see  you  splen- 
didly dressed  on  your  wediUng  day.     Afte?'  that, 
you  can  wear  them  for  penance,  if  you  choos,->,"  said 
Father  Etienne,  laughing.    "  Now  take  them  home, 
my  child." 

"  Yes,  my  father;  but  sometliing  has  happened— I 
am  troubled— may  I  speak  to  you  ?"  said  Coaina. 

"  Yes— yes.  But,  my  child,  what  is  the  meaning 
of  all  this  ?  I  confess  that  you  perplex  me  !"  said 
Father  Etienne,  perceiving,  as  he  looked  up,  that 
Coaina's  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  «  What  is  the 
trouble  ?" 

"  There  is  something,  I  do  not  understand  what;' 
she  said,  timidly,  "  that  causes  some,  who  were  for- 
merly my  best  friends,  to  curl  their  hps  at  me  as 
they  pass ;  they  have  no  gi-eeting  for  me  when  1 
salute  them,  but  look  me  fuU  in  the  face,  and,  witli 
a  toss  of  the  head,  turn  away." 


t  : 


,miinm,x:  »»«.•,.„  i... 


62 


OOAINA. 


i\ ' 


! 


"  Tut !  tut !  my  good  child !  I  fear  that  it  is  a 
little  envy  on  their  part,  and  a  little  imagination  on 
yours.  Did  you  never  hear,  Coaina,  that  when  one 
is  about  to  marry,  all  one's  faults  are  trumj^ed  up 
and  magnified,  and  when  one  dies,  all  of  one's  vir- 
tues are  only  remembered.  So  don't  give  yourself 
unnecessary  trouble  about  one's  looks.  Looks  can't 
hurt  one.  So  tliat  your  conscience  is  clear,  and 
each  duty  performed  with  a  view  to  the  approval 
of  Almighty  God,  why  should  you  be  disturbed? 
Go  home,  my  child,  assured  that  site  who  is  the 
'Help  of  Christians'  will  be  your  refuge  and  pro- 
tection." 

"  That  is  my  hope !"  she  repHed,  with  a  smile 
that  irradiated  her  countenance — "that  is  my 
hope !"  Then,  laieeling,  she  received  Father  Eti- 
enne's  blessing,  and  went  away  loaded  with  the 
rich  gifts  which  she  was  to  wear  at  a  supreme  mo- 
ment, but  not  as  a  bride.  She  had  never  hinted  to 
Father  Etienne  anything  relative  to  the  unkind 
treatment  which  she  had  for  a  long  time  received 
from  her  aunt  and  Winonah,  because  she  not  only 
feared  to  wound  charity  thereby,  but  believed,  in 
her  humility,  that  all  she  suffered  was  due  to  her 
unworthiness ;  nor  had  she  ever  referred  to  her 
annoyances  about  Ahdeek  to  him,  not  caring  to 


A^m 


COAINA. 


C3 


trouble  him  about  trifles  ;  and  in  fact,  although  the 
effect  of  these  annoyances  was  so  clisagi-eeable  and 
senous  a  matter  to  her,  there  was  scarcely  anything 
tangible  or  grave  enough  in  them  to  justify  an 
appeal  to  Father  Etienne ;  he  was,  therefore,  at 
that  time,  entirely  ignorant  of  aU  the  undercurrent 
of  deceit  and  wickedness  that  was  going  on,  to  the 
prejudice  of    Coaina.    Altontinon    and   Winonah 
approached  the  sacraments  regularly.     Alas  !  yes  ; 
they  dared  to  approach  the  august  feast  of  the' 
altar,  as  Judas  did  ;  they  dared  invite  Jesus  Christ 
into  their  hearts,  which  were  the  abode  of  devils  ; 
they  dared  agam  to  cmcify  Him  by  their  mahce 
towards  His  faithful  servant,  who,  in  return,  prayed 
for  them  night  and  day,  and  frequently  offered  hei 
worthy  communions  for  their  temporal  and  spiritual 
good. 

One  evening,  Coaina,  having  remained  later  than 
usual  in  the  chapel,  where  she  had  received  much 
consolation  in  prayer,  returned  home,  and  found 
her  aunt  and  Winonah  in  raptures  over  a  superb 
mantle   of   mole-skins,  fringed  richly  with    gold 
and    Hned  mth  cloth.     Coama    had    never  seen 
anythmg  which  struck  her  as  being  so  magnifi. 
cent,  in  her  life,  and  she  expressed  her  admiration 
with  simple  earnestness,  without  once  mquiring  to 


1 1 1> 


11 


> 


64 


COAINA. 


whom  it  belonged.  If  she  thought  about  it  at  all, 
her  idea  was  that  it  belonged  to  her  aunt.  What, 
then,  was  her  surprise  when  Altontinon  threw  it 
over  her  shoulders,  saying :  "  Tar-ra-hee  knows  how 
to  make  princely  gifts  to  his  bride.  The  Queen  of 
England  might  be  proud  of  this." 

"  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  were  you,  Coaina !"  exclaimed 
AVinonah,  clasping  her  hands. 

"  For  me !  Oh,  it  is  too  grand,  too  costly  for 
mo  !     When  was  Tar-ra-hee  here  ?" 

"  This  afternoon,  while  you  were  at  the  chapel. 
He  will  not  be  back  until  to-morrow  evening.  He 
has  gone,  in  his  canoe,  to  fish,  up  the  Ottawa,  and 
the  word  he  left  is  that  you  meet  liim  on  the  shore 
when  he  returns,  with  his  gift,  this  superb  mantle, 
about  you,"  said  Altontinon. 

"  How  foolish  is  Tar-ra-hee  to  have  me  make  a 
show  of  myself,"  she  said,  with  a  low  laugh,  as  she 
smoothed  the  velvety  fur  mth  her  small  dusky 
hand.  "  I  shall,  however,  do  as  he  wishes  ;  really  I 
am  ashamed  of  such  grand  finery." 

"  It  is  not  too  fine  for  the  bride  of  ow  sachem, 
Coaina!  Why,  gold,  and  silver,  and  precious 
stones,  would  not  be  too  grand  for  you  I  But  what 
have  you  got  there  ?"  said  Winonah. 


COAINA. 


65 


"  Something  which  I  will  show  you  by  and  by  " 
replied  Coaina,  who  had  felt  Winonah's  sneer,  and 
then,  gathenng  up  the  mole-sldn  mantle  with  the 
other  things  which  she  held  in  her  arms,  she  re- 
tired to  her  own  apartment.     Then  Altontinon  and 
Wmonah  embraced  each  other,  laughed  and  danced 
as  if  they  were  wild,  and  making  other  signs  ex- 
pressive   of   triumph,   pointed    towards    Coaina's 
apartment  with  fiendish  glee. 

The  next  evenmg  Coaina  folded  the  mole-skin 
mantle  and  hung  it  upon  her  arm,  then  threw  a 
gray  cloak  about  her  in  such  a  manner  as  to  con- 
ceal Its  gold  frmges  and  scarlet  lining,  and  was 
about  leaving  the  lodge  to  go  down  to  the  lake  to 
wait  for  Tar-ra-hee,  when  her  aimt  accosted  her 
with  a  discomposed  look. 
"  'Wlieie  are  you  going,  Coaina  ?" 

"  To  wait  for  CyrU,  as  he  left  word,"  she  mildly 
answered. 

"  Oh !  But  where  is  the  mantle  ?  He  was  very 
particular  in  his  wish  for  you  to  wear  it,"  said  her 
aunt,  anxiously. 

"  I  have  it  here,"  replied  the  unsuspecting  girl  " 
as  she  lifted  her  cloak,  that  Altontinon  might  see 
It.     "  I  could  not  wear  it  through  the  village  with- 


! 


^1 


ft 


66 


COAINA. 


out  exciting  too  much  observation,  so  1  thought  I 
would  put  it  about  me  after  I  got  down  to  the  hxke." 

"  Such  modesty  !"  said  Altontinon,  scornfully. 
"Little  hypocrite,  leave  off  that  gray  cloak  this 
instant,  and  wear  Tar-ra-hee's  gift,  as  he  bade  you. 
He  shall  not  be  dishonored  by  having  his  mshes, 
as  well  as  his  bridal  present,  sKghed  in  that  way. 
Shame  upon  you."  Then  Altontinon  snatched  the 
grey  cloak  from  Coaina's  shoulders,  shook  out  the 
superb  mole-skin  mantle,  and  before  Coaina,  in  her 
surprise,  could  offer  the  slightest  resistance,  she 
had  put  it  around  Ler,  and  fastened  the  showy 
gilt  clasps  over  her  bosom.  "  Now  go,"  she  added, 
"  you  are  too  poor-spirited  to  be  the  ivife  of  our 
chief." 

What  was  it  that,  like  a  strain  of  clear  music, 
suddenly  whispered  to  Coaina's  heart :  "Blessed  ai^e 
the  poor  in  spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven?^^ 
She  could  not  tell,  but,  repeating  the  words  to  her- 
self, she  walked  fi'om  the  lodge,  forgetful  of  all 
else,  while  her  eyes  wore  that  same  far-off  expres- 
sion which  we  have  before  described.  She  did  not 
see  the  scornful  looks  directed  towards  her,  or  the 
low-uttered  sneers  as  she  passed  the  various  groups 
collected  in  front  of  the  lodges  in  the  village,  on 


COAMA. 


67 


her  way  to  the  lake  ;  stiU  less  would  she  Lave  u.- 
cler«tood  them  even  had  she  seen  them 

The  soft  musie  of  the  waves  i-ushmg  swiftly  to 
the  shove  and  meltmg  „pon  the  sands-the ll 

.  n  hght  thrown  across  the  late  by  the  dechning 

gather  from    her  introverted    communings ;    and 
«elect.ng  a  sheltered  seat  upon  the  gnarled  .ots  J 
:;  ^'IT       ""'P''^'   ""^"^^    ^^-<"^-.  l'-"len   with 

smlace  of  the  lake,  she  folded  her  hands  upon  her 
tnoes,  and  awaited  the  coming  of  Tar-ra-hee.     At 
length,  afar  off,  and  in  the  very  midst  of  the  sun's 
goHen  track,  his  canoe  appeared  upon  the  dancin,! 
waters;  nearer  and  nearer  it  sped  like  an  aiTow,  ui^ 
to  the  smewy  strength  of  the  young  chiefs  arms. 
Coama  could  now  see  the  paddles  flashing  in  and  out 
of  the  water,  looking  as  if  they  were  plated  with 
burnished  gold ;  tlien  they  were  cbawn  in,  and  Tar- 
ra-hee  stood  up,  his  symmetrical  form  showing  in 
nohle  rehef  against  the  bright  sky;  his  eye  s^tept 
the  shore;  Coama  waved  a  bright  scarf  with  whicl. 
«he  had  covei.d  her  head  ;  he  made  a  glad  gesture 
wth  his  hands,  agata  resumed  his  seat,  and  by  a 


.1  4 


fc-    I 


68 


CX)AINA. 


few  vigorous  strokes  of  the  paddles  brought  his 
birchen  canoe  ghding  swiftly  up  upon  the  sands. 
Securing  some  of  the  finest  and  largest  of  his  fish, 
lie  sprang  upon  the  shore  and  hastened  towards 
Coaina,  who,  with  a  smile  of  welcome,  modestly 
advanced  to  meet  him,  when  he  suddenly  halted — 
his  face  flushed  crimson,  and  an  angiy  scowl  dark- 
ened his  features. 

"  Cyril !"  said  Coaina,  timidly. 

"  Thou  art  fine  to-day,  Coaina,  too  fine  for  the 
bride  of  an  Algonquin  christian,"  he  said,  scanning 
her  for  a  moment  with  grave  scorn,  from  head  to 
foot,  then  passed  on  with  quick,  angry  step.  Here 
was  sudden  darkness  for  Coaina !  His  own  gift, 
worn  at  his  own  command  to  show  her  value  for  it, 
to  excite  such  cruel  anger!  It  was  a  mystery 
which  was  inexphcable  to  her.  Tears  gathered  in 
her  eyes,  her  hands  trembled,  and  she  was  obhged 
to  sit  down  while  she  tried  to  unclasp  the  mantle. 
Bewildered  and  grieved,  she  returned  slowly  home- 
ward, the  mantle  hanging  upon  her  arm,  and  when 
she  was  once  more  within  the  sohtude  of  her  own 
little  apartment,  she  tossed  it  into  an  obscure  cor- 
ner, and,  with  a  feeling  of  desolation,  knelt,  weep- 
ing and  sorrowful,  to  lay  her  griefs  where  she  had 
ever  oflered  her  joys,  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  and  Mary 


OOAINA. 


69 


By  and  by  she  grew  more  composed,  and  began  to 
hope  for  the  best.  Guileless  herself,  she  suspected 
no  evU  m  others-far  less  did  she  imagme  the  exist- 
ence of  any  base  designs  against  her.  After  a  while 
Altontinon  came  in  under  pretence  of  borrowing  a 
needle,  and  asked  ;  «  Did  Tar-ra-hee  come?" 

"  Yes,  he  came,"  replied  Coaina. 

"  Were  you  there  in  time  to  see  him  ?" 

"I  saw  him." 

"  How  did  he  think  his  bride  looked  in  that  royal 
mantle  ?"  asked  Altontmon,  with  an  evil  ghtter  in 
her  eyes. 

"I  believe  he  thought  it,  after  aU,  too  fine,"  she 
said,  looldng  down. 

"  The  unreasonable !  But,  chHd,  it  was  no  use 
to  cry  about  that.  Tar-ra-hee  is  only  like  all 
other  men— none  are  constant,"  said  Altontinon, 
with  a  sneer. 

"I  think  that  Cyril  ife.  Nothing  can  shake  my 
faith  in  him.  T/e  must  not  judge  him  rashly,"  said 
Coaina,  gravely. 

"I  won't  dispute  the  point  with  you.  Settle  it 
yourself.  But  did  you  hear  that  there's  great  sick- 
ness among  the  Iroquois  ?" 

"  Ko.     Poor  people !    What  is  it  ?" 

"  A  sort  of  di-eadf 111  fever.    Father  Etienne  has 


70 


COAINA. 


gone  up  there  to  baptize  some  of  them  who  are 
dying.  It  is  worse  up  near  the  forest,  where  the 
unbaptized  ones  live." 

"  Ah,  may  God  brmg  them  safely  into  His  fold 
before  their  departure  !"  exclaimed  Coaina,  forget- 
ful of  her  own  sorrow,  as  she  thought  of  the  needs 
of  the  dying. 

"  And,''  continued  Altontinon,  "  that  filthy  pagan, 
Ahdeek,  has  been  hero  blubbering  like  a  woman, 
and  looking  like  a  scare-crow,  because  his  mother 
is  ill  and  won't  let  the  medicine  man  come  in  to 
her.  Then  he  told  me  to  ask  you  to  talk  to  the 
White  Mother  for  her." 

"  I  will,  most  gladly,"  said  Coaina,  who  was  only 
too  happy  to  be  engaged  in  a  work  of  charity. 
Then  she  bathed  her  face,  and  wrapping  her  gray 
cloak  about  her  once  more,  started  to  go  down  to 
the  chapel  to  pray  for  the  sick,  and  particularly 
implore  the  assistance  of  the  Blessed  Vii'gin  for  the 
conversion  of  Ahdeek's  dying  mother.  Near  the 
chapel  she  met  old  Ma-kee,  who  stopped  her  to 
inquire  where  Tar-ra-hee  was. 

"  At  his  lodge,  I  suppose,  Ma-kee.  He  has  just 
returned  from  fishing." 

"He  is  not  there,  To-hic.  He  started  an  hour 
ago  for  Montreal,"  said  the  old  Indian.     "  Ugh ! 


.CO^UNA. 


71 


Black  clouds  open  their  wings  in  the  face  of  the 
sun  sometimes.  It  is  nothing  strange-but  be- 
ware of  the  snake,  To-hic ;  beware  of  the  deadly 
moccasin  creeping  in  the  grass !"  Then  Ma-kee 
wrapped  his  dii'ty  blanket  about  him,  and  crept 
on. 

"What  is  this  shadow  that  comes  darkening  my 
heart  ?"  thought  Coaina.  « I  thought  it  was  gone 
forever,  but  I  feel  the  chill  of  it  agam.  O;  Great 
Spirit,"  she  cried,  prostrating  herself  before  the 
altar,  "  Thou  sendest  us  joy ;  Thou  sendest  us  sor- 
row ;  whatever  Thou  doest  is  right ;  only  keep  me 
by  the  hand  while  the  danger  passes ;  let  me  cling 
closer  to  thee,  sweet  Mother  of  Jesus,  that  I  may 
not  perish  in  the  dark  waters !" 

Two  or  three  days  passed  by,  and  Coaina  saw 
but  too  plainly  that  her  people  looked  askance  at 
her.     ,^ome  refused  to  notice  her  at  all— others  re- 
turned only  a  haughty  nod  to  her  salutations,  and 
once,  when  she  met  Father  Etienne,  she  imagined 
that,  although  he  spoke  kindly,  he  received  her 
with  a  stern  and  troubled  expression  of  counte- 
nance, neither  stopping,  as  usual,  to  say  a  pleasant 
word,  or  lay  his  hand  upon  her  head  in  blessing. 
Even  the  Httle  chUdren  began  to  shrink  from  her, 
and  stood  back,  gazing  wouder-eye'd  at  her,  when- 


72 


OOAINA. 


I'*; 
I, .  i 

i. 


ever  she  addressed  them,  or  sought  to  gather  them 
about  her.  She  felt  bewildered  by  the  HtrjsiigciicHB 
of  it  all,  but  Father  Etienne  had  told  her  that  per- 
haps "  it  -was  half  envy  on  the  part  of  others,  and 
half  imagination  in  herself" — therefore  it  might  be 
so ;  she  would  not  resent  it,  but  bear  it  patiently, 
in  the  good  hope  that  God  would  accept  her 
humiliation,  which  she  offered  in  the  true  spirit  of 
penance,  in  satisfaction  for  the  many  faults  of  her 
life,  and  in  His  own  good  time  disperse  the  cloud 
which  gathered  so  loweringly  over  her.  Altontinon 
and  Winonah  were  jubilant,  and  affected  to  be  ex- 
tremely kind  to  her,  while  Coaina,  nothing  doul)t- 
ing  their  sincerity,  received  their  extraordinary 
attentions  with  gratitude,  and  felt  comforted  that 
they  at  least  clung  to  her. 


I 


OOAINA. 


78 


CHAPTER  V. 


LUKED    INTO  THE    SNARE. 


Everything  wore  a  change  for  Coaina— every- 
thing except  the  consolations  afforded  her  by  the 
divine  sacraments.     There  was  no  change  there. 
Untainted  by  the  world,  for  whose  salvation  they 
were  established,  neither  time,  malice  nor  all  the 
powers  of   hell  combined  can  shake  them   fi-om 
then:  eternal  foundations,  or  strip  them  of  the  least 
of  their  attributes.    Not  of  the  "  earth,  earthy," 
they  never  fail  those  who  are  faithful  to  them,  and 
though  all  mankind  stand  against  the  soul,  they, 
with  infinite  generosity,  undying  compassion,  un- 
selfish constancy,  and  prodigal  love,  encompass  it 
round  about,  never  ceasing  their  consoling  minis- 
traticns,  until  that  soul  has  reached  the  end  of  its 
thorny  pilgrimage,  and  passed  the  po  talg  of  death 
to  its  everlasting  reward. 

Coaina  realized  the  truth  of  this  in  a  wonderful 
degree,  for  the  more  her  "kinsmen  and  fiiends 
stood  aloof,"  the  more  constantly  did  she  .;eek  rest 


74 


OOAINA. 


i  ; 


for  lior  wounded  f  pirit  in  the  lifo-pjiving  sacraments, 
and  shelter  her  troubled  mind  in  the  shadow  of  the 
sanctuary.  She  could  understand  notldng  except 
tliat  a  time  of  tribulation  had  come  upon  her  ;  she 
could  do  nothing  save  put  her  trust  in  the  justice 
and  mercy  of  God,  and  the  tender  compassion  of 
Mary,  and  patiently  await  the  result. 

One  day  after  confession,  Father  Etienne  asked 
her  "if  she  had  ever  received  any  gifts  from  Ah- 
deek,  the  Iroquois  ?" 
"  Never,  my  father." 
"  Do  you  often  see  Alidoek,  Coaina  ?" 
"  Sometimes,  at  my  aunt's  lodge." 
"  Nowhere  else  ?" 

"  Never,  my  father.  Why  should  I  ?"  Alidoek 
is  nothing  to  me." 

"  Very  well ;  I  do  not  see  why  I  should  doubt 
your  word,  Coaina." 

"  Thank  you,  my  father,"  she  replied  gently. 
"  My  tongue  never  lies." 

"  Be  careful,  my  child,  that  it  never  does,"  said 
Father  Etienne.  Tlien  after  a  pause,  he  added  : 
"  There  are  evil  reports  abroad  concerning  you, 
Coaina  ;  I  doubt  them  all,  and  shall  continue  to  do 
so  until  their  truth  is  proved.  If  false,  you  are  re- 
viled without  cause,  and  God  Himself  will  succor 


9  1 1 


COAINA. 


75 


you  ;  if  time,  then,  my  poor  eliild,  you  are  guilty  of 
tlie  most  (loteHtablo  liy]iocrisy.  Being  only  man,  I 
cannot  read  your  soul,  and  in  the  absence  of  proof 
of  your  guilt  or  innocence,  I  daro  not  withhold  the 
sacraments  from  you.  The  responsibility  rests, 
then,  upon  your  own  soul.     Go  in  peace." 

She  would  have  spoken,  but  a  sob  choked  her 
utterance,  and  rising  from  her  knees  she  liastilv 
left  the  confessional,  and  fell,  rather  than  bowed,  at 
the  feet  of  the  image  of  the  Immaculate  Mother. 
She  could  not  fashion  the  anguished  emotions  of 
her  soul  into  words ;  she  felt,  like  her  divine  Sa- 
viour, all  the  bitterness  without  the  guilt  of  tho 
things  whereof  she  was  accused,  and  of  which  she 
was  yet  ignorant.  Low  sobs  expressed  her  bitter 
suffering,  and  every  tear  she  shed  was  an  eloquent 
appeal  to  the  compassion  of  God,  as  she  knelt 
there,  the  innocent  victim  of  the  malice  of  her 
enemies. 

No  prayer  ever  uttered  by  prophet  or  saint  can 
compare  with  the  adoration  of  a  speechless  w^oe, 
which  resigns  itself  in  dumb  resignation  to  the  Di- 
vine will.  His  face  may  be  hidden  for  a  while  by 
the  cloud  which  veils  it,  but  He  is  ever  near  ;  and 
when  His  designs  are  accomplished,  He  disperses, 
by  a  single  breath,  the  shadows  which  hid  Him, 


nil 


K 


I 


76 


COAINA. 


and  lifts  up  the  fainting  soul  y^th  tender  consola- 
tions, ofttimes  crowning  her  with  glory  and  eternal 
honor. 

Where  was  Tar-ra-hee  ?    Ho  had  returned  from 
Montreal,  and  remained  at  home   a  week.     One 
evening  Coaina,  after  decorating  the  shrine  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  with  a  garland  of  rich  flowers  which 
she  had  that  day  gatliered  in  the  forest,  knelt  down 
to  recite  the  Eosary.     Wliile  she  dropped  bead 
after  bead,  she  thought  of  the  sorrows  that  had 
crowned  and  pierced  the  immaculate  heart  of  Mary, 
feeling  all  the  time  the  sting  of  her  own  strange 
grief,  until  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes  and  rolled 
over  her  flushed  cheeks.    A  quick,  soft  step  entered 
the  chapel,  and  then  some  one  knelt,  unperceived 
by  her,  not  far  from  her.     Covering  her  face  with 
her  hands,  she  bowed  her  head,  resting  it  on  the 
feet  of  the  pure  image  of  the  Virgin  Mother,  and 
murmured :  "  Thou  wilt  not  forsake  me,  my  Pro- 
tectress and  Mother.     Be  thou  my  friend  and  con- 
solatrix ;  then  if  all  the  world  forsake  me,  what 
need  I  fear?"     Her  devotions  over,  she  was  about 
leaving  the  shrine,  when  some  one  touched  her 
lightly  upon  the  shoulder,  and  a  familiar  voice  ut- 
tered her  name  in  a  low  tone.     She  turned  quickly, 
recognizing  the  voice,  and  saw  Tar-ra-hee  regard- 


<i-^' 


COAINA. 


77 


mg  her  with  a  grave  and  sad  expression  of  counte- 
nance. A  crimson  blush  mantled  her  face  •  she 
stood  suddenly  stiU,  while  her  tearful  eyes  rested 
with  a  wild  and  startled  expression  on  his  face. 
He  walked  to  the  side  door  of  the  chapel,  where 
thick  vmes  drooped  over  a  sort  of  trelhsed  work, 
forming  a  vestibule  screened  with  leaves  and  flowers,' 
and  beckoned  her  to  him. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Cyril,"  she  said,  standing 
before  him  with  her  hands  folded,  and  her  eyes 
modestly  cast  down. 

"  Is  that  what  you  also  say  to  Ahdeek  ?"  he 
asked,  gravely. 

"Who,  Cyril?    The  Iroquois?    I  am  never  glad 

to  see  him." 

"  But  you  receive  his  gifts,  Coaina !" 

"  I  have  never  received  aught  from  Ahdeek,"  she 
said  quicldy. 

"And  never  see  him-and  never  go  to  the  forest 
to  meet  him  ?"  exclaimed  Tar-ra-hee. 

"  Never,  Cyril.  What  could  have  poisoned  your 
heart  to  believe  such  a  dreadful  thing  ?" 

"  Coaina,  I  thought,  a  few  moments  ago,  when  I 
saw  you  kneelmg  there  so  humbly,  your  head  bowed 
like  a  magnolia  flower  after  the  storm,  that  you 
must  be  innocent,  or  you  dared  not  pray.     My 


im 


78 


COAINA. 


heart  melted  like  the  ice  in  the  Ottawa,  when  the 
warm  spring  tides  break  it  up,  and  I  only  thought 
of  my  love  for  my  betrothed.  But  Coaina,  what 
you  say  is  not  white  ;  it  is  a  lie." 

"Oh,  Cyril — Cyril,  my  brother!"  she  cried,  in 
anguish  ;  "  tell  me  what  you  mean !  What  have  I 
done  ?" 

Then  he  told  her  about  the  mole-skin  mantle. 
Alideek  had  shown  it  to  him  months  ago,  and  told 
him  it  was  to  be  worn  only  by  his  promised  wife, 
and  for  that  he  was  reserving  it.  He  told  her  how 
unworthy  Ahdeek  was,  and  how  blighting  to  a  vir- 
tuous reputation  was  all  association  with  him. 
Then  he  told  her  how  his  joy  had  suddenly  turned 
into  anger  and  mourning  the  day  he  returned  home 
from  fishing,  and  found  her  waiting  on  the  shore 
for  him  arrayed  in  Ahdeek' s  gift. 

"  And  was  it  not  your  gift,  Cyril  ?    My  aunt " 

then  a  divine  charity  closed  her  lips. 

"  Did  any  one  tell  you  it  was  from  me,  Coaina  ?" 

"  I  thought  so,  C;yTil ;  it  was  left  for  me.  I 
thought  it  was  your  gift,  and  I  wore  it  that  evening 
to  show  you  how  much  I  valued  it,"  she  said  ear- 
nestly, while  the  trath  declared  itself  in  every  line 
of  her  now  pale  face. 

"  Is  this  true,  Coaina  ?"  he  asked,  sternly. 


COAINA. 


79 


m 


»> 


"  Our  Blessed  Mother  is  my  witness  that  it  is !" 
she  replied,  making  a  gesture  with  her  hand  to- 
wards the  shrine.  "  Cyril,  fearing  the  Great  Spirit 
whose  eye  sees  all,  I  dare  not  He  to  thee,  my  be- 
trothed.' 

"  Poison  has  touched  my  heart,"  he  said,  looking 
down  into  the  innocent  and  truthful  face  upHfted  to 
his.  "  To-morrow,  Coaina,  I  will  see  you  again  in 
the  presence  of  your  aunt,  and  if  any  have  calum- 
niated you,  they  shall  answer  to  me  for  it."  And 
as  he  spoke,  the  troubled  and  gloomy  expression  of 
Tar-ra-hee's  eyes  gave  place  to  one  more  gentle 
and  tender. 

"  Thank  you,  my  brother,"  she  rephed,  and  was 
about  to  leave  him  when  Altontinon  bustled  into 
the  rustic  vestibule,  outside  of  which  she  had  stood, 
and  not  only  watched  them  through  the  leaves,  but 
overheard  all  that  passed,  and  said  to  Coaina  in  an 
agitated  tone  : 

"  Hasten  home,  Coaina  ;  my  child  is  iU.  I  fear 
the  Iroquois  fever  is  upon  her.  I  am  going  to  Ma^ 
kee's  lodge  for  herbs." 

"  I  will  go,  aunt ;  I  hope  Winonah  is  not  ill  of 
the  fever,"  she  answered  gently,  while  a  dawning 
smile  once  more  gave  serenity  to  her  features. 

"  Yes,  go  /"  thought  this  malicious  woman  ;  "  it 


life  fi , 


11 


(  .  J 


80 


COAINA. 


over 


m 


'  you,  although  you  seem  to  think  the 
sun  is  rising  once  more."  Tar-ra-heo  had  re-en- 
tered the  chapel,  and  was  ImeeUng  before  the  altar 
during  this  short  conference;  and  when  Coaiiia, 
after  a  rapid  walk,  reached  home,  she  found  Wiuo- 
nail  apparently  ill  of  a  burning  fever,  moaning  and 
tossing  on  her  pillow,  as  if  in  the  greatest  pain. 
Had  Coaina  but  turned  down  the  coverhd,  she 
would  have  seen  that  Winonah  was  surrounded  by 
heated  bricks,  which  almost  consumed  her,  ai^d 
produced  all  the  effects  of  violent  fever.  But  so 
innocent  and  guileless  was  this  saintly  child  of  the 
forest,  that  she  never  suspected  any  one  of  deceit 
or  wrong ;  indeed,  so  full  was  her  heart  of  a  divine 
charity,  that  she  only  thought  of  concealmg  the 
faults  of  others,  even  when  she  discovered  them. 

The  most  criminal  of  all  lies  are  those  which  are 
garnished  here  and  there  with  the  truth,  making  a 
plausible  an-ay  of  facts  which  can  scarcely  be  con- 
tradicted without  making  the  truth  suffer,  by  drag- 
ging it  through  the  mire  of  misrepresentation  and 
falsehood,  into  which  maUce  has  plunged  it.  Never 
suspecting  the  practical  he  before  her,  Coaina,  iii 
the  simpHcity  of  her  heart,  set  about  making  her 
cousm  comfortable.  She  gathered  bahn  leaves 
from  the  garden  and  made  her  a  refiresliing  drink, 


COAINA. 


81 


an.l  bathed  her  head  with  cool  water  from  the 
spring ;  she  bound  plantain  leaves  about  her  ^Tists 
rnd  darkened  Uie  lodge,  after  which  she  arrayed 
everything  neatly,  and  spread  the  table  for  the 
serving  n.eal.     In  her  happiest  moods  she  always 
hked  flowers  about  her,  and  now  that  her  interview 
with  Tar-ra-hee  gave  her  a  promise  of  returning 
tranquillity,  she  gathered  a  rich  cluster  from  the 
aster  and  chryssanthomun  bushes,  which  cluster 
around  the  doors  and  windows  of  the  lodge,  and 
set  them  in  the  midst  of  the  table     it  was  quite 
twilight  by  the  time  she  completed  her  arrange- 
ments.    Winonah  seemed  to  be  sleeping,  and  Co- 
aina  went  to  the  door  to  await  the  return  of  lior 
aunt,  Avhen  a  lad— she  could  not  distinguish  his 
features— sprang  over  the  stile  and  handed  her  a 
folded  scrap  of  paper,  then  ran  off  again  mth  the 
greatest  speed.     It  was  so  dark  that  she  could  not 
distinguish  a  word  of  the  writing  which  she  per- 
ceived was  in  it,  so  hurrying  in,  she  stirred  the  em- 
bers, and  cast  into  the  glowing  coals  a  knot  of 
resinous  pine,  which  quickly  kindled,  and  threw  out 
a  ruddy  blaze  which  illuminated  every  part  of  the 
room.     Then  opening  the  letter,  she  rer  :1  : 

"My  child,  t  Dme  to  me  directl^^  to  f!,A  hut  just 
beyond   the  pines,   outside    the   Iroquois  \-illage. 


'■Ml 

t 
,   I 


K\M 


i  ■: 


82 


COAINA. 


Two  young  girls  are  dying,  and  will  be  baptized  if 
you  will  come  to  them.      Hasten.     I'atheb  Eti- 

ENNE." 

Without  waiting  a  moment  to  consider,  Coaina 
stepped  in  to  see  if  her  cousin  still  slept,  and  find- 
ing that  she  did,  she  wrapped  her  cloak  about  her 
and  went  forth,  as  she  thought,  on  an  errand  of 
charity,  at  the  bidding  of  her  spiiitual  guide ;  but 
mstead  of  that  she  was  lured  away,  like  a  yoimg 
gazelle,  into  the  snare  of  the  hunter,  to  suffer  the 
crowning  effort  of  the  malice  of  her  enemies. 

That  night  also,  Tar-ra-hee  received  .a  mysteri- 
ous notification   "to  keep  watch  horn  day-dawn 
until  sunrise,"  fi-om  a  cliff  which  was  overhung  hj 
an  uprooted  hemlock  tree,  that  projected  over  the 
road  leading  to  the  Iroquois  village,  and  command-  * 
ed  a  view  of  two  or  three  miles  extent.    He  was 
told  "  to  expect  something  which  would  unravel  a 
mystery,  and  open  his  eyes  to  the  truth."     Trou- 
bled in  heart,  and  full  of  but  one  thought,  he  de- 
termined to  go,  hoping  that  the  unraveUed  mvstory 
would  be  the  full  exculp^^tion  of  Coaina. 


ll ! 


COAINA. 


83 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    IROQUOIS    LODGE. 

CoAiNA  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  the  lodge 

designated  in  the  letter.     She  paused  a  moment  to 

rest,  having  walked  very  rapidly,  then  hfted  the 

curtain   of  deer   skins  which   hung  over  the   en- 
trance, and  walked  in  ;  but  she  found  no  one  there 

except  an  old  woman,  who  feebly  smoked  her  dirty 

pipe  as  she  crouched  in  a  corner  upon  a  bed  of 

bear  skins. 

"Where  is  Father  Etienne?"  asked  Coaina, 
gently. 

But  the  old  squaw  was  deaf,  and  only  stared  at 
her  with  her  bleared  eyes.  By  and  by  a  lad  came 
in,  who,  when  he  saw  Coaina,  started  to  mn  out, 
but  she  caught  him  by  the  arm,  and  asked:  "Wliero 
is  Father  Etienne  ?" 

"He  says  you  must  wait.  He  will  come  pre- 
sently." 

"  It  is  good,"  she  answered.     "  But  who  is  ill  ?" 
"  Hush-sh-sh  !"  said  the  old  squaw,  seeing  that 
they  talked,  and  pointing  towards  the  inner  r^- 


¥1 


SI 
.■'id 


ifufllffl 


i: 


84 


COAINA. 


cessos  of  the  lodge,  wliicli  were  cui'tained  off  with 
sldns. 

"  Are  they  very  ill  ?"  she  asked  the  lad. 
"  Ugh  !"  replied  the  lad,  shortly  and  sullenly,  for 
he  had  glanced  at  the  old  squaw  in  time  to  see  her 
sliaking  her  shrivelled  fist  towards  him— a  warning 
which  he  knew  from  experience  was  not  to  be  de- 
spised ;  then  he  slunk  out  of  the  lodge.     Coaina, 
thinking  only  of  the  object  which  led  her  there, 
fwid   nothing  doubting  but    that  Father  Etienno 
would  come  presently,  took  out  her  rosary,  and, 
hciduig  it  beneath  her  mantle,  began  the  decade 
of  the  five  soiTowful  mysteries ;  offering  her  inten- 
tion for  the  dying  ones  she  had  come  to  assist. 
She  drew  back  into  an  angle  formed  by  ihc  irregu- 
lar wall  of  the  lodge,  and  partially  concealed  by  a 
bark-covered  cedar  post  wliidi  helped  to  support 
the  roof,  she  closed  her  eyes,  and  was  soon  lost  to 
all  her  strange  surroundings  in  her  devout  medita- 
tions upon  the  august  dolors  of  Mary.     The  sound 
of  muffled  footsteps,  and  that  soft,  indescribable 
rustle  of  garments,  roused  her  attention,  and  think- 
ing that  Father  Etienne  had  come,  she  unclosed 
her  eyes,  but  saw,  instead  of  Father  Etienne,  a 
crowd   of  dusky  forms,  whose  hideously  painted 
faces  and  gaudy  attire,  whose  keen,  cunning  eyoa 


li  , 


COAINA. 


86 


and  gloaming  liatclicts,  filled  her  with  pci-plexity 
and  alarm.  Among  them,  in  the  centre  of  the 
group,  she  recognized  Alideek.  According  to  the 
wajs  of  her  people,  Coaina  st^dom  showed  either 
surprise  or  alarm,  and  now  she  calmly  arose,  and 
stopping  forward,  asked  once  more:  "Where  is 
"Father  Etienne  ?" 

"  He  is  not  here,  To-hic.    This  is  a  strange  place 
to  seek  him,"  he  replied. 

"  He  sent  for  me  here.  Here  is  his  letter,"  said 
Coaina,  as  a  cold  sensation  thrilled  through  her 
heart.  Ahdeek  took  the  letter,  while  a  gleam  of 
triumph  shot  across  his  swarthy  visage,  pretended 
to  read  it,  then  tore  it  into  piec3s,  and  scattered 
the  fragments  with  a  scornful  laugh. 

"  So,"  said  a  leering  old  chief,  "  the  Algonquin 
cliristian  can  come  to  the  lodge  of  the  Iroquois 
medicine  man,  to  see  Taho.  What  ivill  the  man  of 
prayer  say  ?"' 

"  I  came  here  to  see  two  Iroquois  maidens  bp'i- 
+ized  into  the  christian  faith.  Wliere  are  they  ?  I 
will  go  to  them,"  she  repKed,  .vdth  an  undaunted 
look,  as  she  attempted  to  pass  the  gi-oup  of  Indi- 
ans, for  the  purpose  of  leaving  the  lodge.  But 
instantly  a  score  of  bright  hatchets  and  knotty 
clubs  were  lifted  over  her  head.     Startled  and  ter- 


r 


86 


OOAINA. 


rifled,  but  outwardly  calm  and  bravo,  slio  folded 
lior  hands  upon  her  breast,  and  looking  full  into 
the  grim  faces  which  scowled  around  her,  she 
asked,  in  a  clear  and  distinct  tone :  "  By  what  right 
do  you  hold  me  prisoner  ?" 

"  By  mij  will !"  said  Ahdeek,  and  every  one  of 
liis  dusky  sateUites  responded  "Ugh!"  "You 
have  curled  the  lip  in  scorn  of  the  chief  of  the  Iro- 
quois," Ahdeek  wont  on  to  say  ;  "  he  is  strong,  and 
not  to  be  driven  off  like  a  dog  !" 

"  Have  I  ever  harmed  you,  Ahdeek  ?     It  is  not 
the  part  of  a  brave  chief  to  make  war  against  a 
defenceless  woman.     Let  me  go  free,"  said  Coaina. 
"  Listen,  Coaina.     My  lodge  is  empty.     I  have  no 
one  there  to  hght  the  fire  upon  my  hearth  ;  no  one 
to  dress  the  skins  that  I  take  in  hunting,  or  cook 
my  fish  and  venison.     I  need  you.     Be  my  wife. 
You  shall  have  all  that  the  daughter  and  wife  of  a 
great  chief  needs.    You  shall  not  toil.    You  shnll 
have  the  softest  furs  of  the  stone-marten  and  fitch ; 
your  robes  shall  be  decked  with  sables  which  I 
will  fetch  from  the  dark  Suaganay  ;  and  your  couch 
shall  be  spread  with  the  soft  skins  of  the  beaver. 
You  shall  have  the  brightest  beads,  fringes  of  gold 
and  silver,  stuffs  with  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow, 
and  plenty  all  the  year  round.     Will  you  come  to 


n 


COAINA. 


87 


my  lod-^  Coaina?"  Raid  Aliciook,  hoping  to  dazzle 
her  by  his  boastful  proix..  ^es. 

"No,.\lideek.  No.  I  m  already,  in  the  sight 
of  heaven,  the  spous  of  Tar-ra-hee,  the  -i  of 
the  Algonquins.  Even  were  I  not,  I  would  not 
come  into  the  lodge  of  an  uubr^-vor,"  rcpHed 
Coaina,  still  standing  bravely  erect. 

"  The  chief  of  the  Algonquins  would  rather  marry 
my  old  grandmother  there  than  you,  Coaina.  The 
eagle  will  never  mate  with  the  carrion-crow.  r- 
ra-hee  despises  you.  What  will  he  say  when  ho 
knows  where  you  spent  the  night  ?"  asked  Ahdeek, 
with  a  mahcious  gi-in. 

"All,  Alideek,"  wailed  Coaina,  as  a  full  sense  of 
her  peril  broke  upon  her  mind,  while  she  stretched 
out  her  hands  towards  him,  "  be  generous,  and  let 
me  go  hence  in  peace." 

"  You  are  my  captive  until  the  day  dawns.  You 
shall  have  a  new  baptism,  Coaina,  then  I  wHl  con- 
duct you  safely  home.  You  are  safe,  To-hic,  unless 
you  do  yourself  hurt ;  only  be  quiet  in  the  trap 
into  which  you  are  snared,"  he  said.  He  then  gave 
a  brief  order  to  the  savages  around  to  guard  the 
entrance  to  the  lodge,  while  two  kept  watch  on 
each  side  of  Coaina,  watching  her  faintest  move- 
ment.    There  was  no  hope  of  escape,  for  this  swar- 


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COAINA. 


I 


thy  crowd  was  composed  of  those  among  the  Iro- 
quois who  still  rejected  Christianity ;  who  beheved 
in  the  traditionary  fables  of  their  people,  the  super- 
stitious rites  associated  with  their  worship;  who 
had  unlimited  faith  in  the  evil  spirits  of  the  water 
and  forest,  in  magic  and  omens ;  who  worshipped 
corn  as  a  deity,  and  adored  lire  ;  who  were  unscru- 
pulous in  their  morals,  and  beheved  in  no  higher 
law  than  obedience  to  their  chief,  and  a  due  observ- 
ance of  their  traditionary  customs. 

"  Ahdeek,"  she  said,  in  a  solemn  and  impressive 
tone, ''  Alideek,  you  have  betrayed  me.  You  have 
snared  me  like  a  simple  cony  of  the  forest ;  but  re- 
member that  my  God  is  powerful — that  He  will 
bring  to  nought  your  mckedness,  and  jnake  you 
fall  into  the  pit  you  have  dug  for  me." 

"  Let  Him  help  you  now,  To-hic,"  said  Alideek, 
scornfully.  "  Now's  the  time  !" 
.  "  In  His  own  good  time  will  He  dehver  me.  I 
adore  His  will,  and  await  His  coming,"  she  said, 
clasping  her  hands  together,  and  looking  upwards 
with  a  gaze  so  supernaturally  bright  that  one 
would  have  thought  her  sight  penetrated  far  be- 
yond the  night,  and  beheld  the  face  of  the  great 
Dehverer  of  whom  she  spoke. 

"  She  tallis  of  the  gi'eat  Manito,"  they  whispored 


COAINA. 


89 


around  lier.     «  She  has  the  heart  of  a  warrior." 

Coaina  saw  how  futile  were  her  hopes  of  escape, 
and,  with  a  sharp  human  pang,  she  resigned  her- 
self to  the  bitter  necessity  of  her  situation,  while 
she  implored  the  protection  of  Almighty  God,  and 
invoked  the  assistance  of  the  Immaculate  Mother. 
She  felt  that,  beside  these,  she  had  none  else  to  fly 
to.     She  knew  that  on  the  morrow  she  would  be 
scorned  and  cast  out  by  her  people,  for  who  would 
believe  in  hev  innocence,  in  the  face  of  such  e^d- 
dence,  when  her  reputation  was  already  tainted  by 
calumny?    Her    enemies    had    snared    her,    and 
thrown  over  her  innocence  a  garment  of  blackness 
which  no  eye  could  penetrate  save  the  sleepless 
eye  of  the  All-seeing ;  wliich  no  glance  of  loving 
compassion  could  fathom  save  hers— the  Mother 
of  Jesus  ;  which  aU  would  shxink  from  with  scorn, 
save  the  angels  who  were  given  charge  over  her. 
In    one    sense  we    may  exclaim:  "Poor,  forlorn 
Coaina  /"      In    another    we    may    exclaim :    "  O, 
maiden  of  divine  predilection  !  honored  art  thou  in 
thy  sorrow  and  shame  !  thy  thorny  giiefs  are  bud- 
ding heavenly  blossoms  for  the  crown  which   is 
wea\ing  for  thee  in  heaven  !" 

Thus  resting  in  strong  faith  upon  God's  promises, 
Coaina'y  troubled  heart  grew  more  calm.     The  rich 


III 


i ; 


flO 


COAINA. 


Ill 


blood  had  forsaken  her  face,  leaving  it  cold  and 
pale,  and  as  she  stood  leaning  against  the  cedar 
post,  she  looked  hke  a  statue  carved  out  of  stone, 
so  motionless  and  apparently  breathless  was  she. 

Suddenly  a  bright  red  gleam  shot  across  her 
closed  -eyeR.  When  she  opened  them  she  saw  a 
pyramid  of  faggots  heaped  up  in  the  middle  of  the 
lodge,  under  which  a  fire  had  been  kindled,  and 
now  shot  here  and  there,  between  the  interstices  of 
the  wood,  red  tongues  of  flame,  which  crept  in  and 
out  hke  fiery  serpents.  Around  this  fire  stood, 
first  in  order,  the  childi'en  and  young  people,  and 
behind  them,  those  more  advanced  in  life.  In  the 
centre  was  the  medicine  man,  in  his  grotesque 
trappings,  and  hideously  disguised. 

At  a  signal  from  him,  all  raised  their  hands ;  he 
threw  a  piece  of  deer's  fat  into  the  flames,  when 
every  one  present  cried  out,  in  a  measured  and  un- 
earthly chant :  "  Taho !  Taho !"  After  this,  a  smaU 
space  was  cleared  by  the  medicine  man,  who  now 
produced  a  pouch  in  which  there  was  a  pipe  and 
powder,  which  he  called  potnl  The  pouch  was 
carried  solemnly  around  the  fire,  all  chanting 
Taho  !  Taho  !  after  wliicii  the  potu  was  taken  from 
the  pouch,  and  distributed  to  all  the  men,  who 
smoked  it,  and  fumigated  their  bodies  Avith  it  as 


COAINA. 


91 


with  somethkg  sacred.  An  Iroquois  filled  a  pipe 
with  it,  and  lighting  it  by  his  own,  handed  it  to 
Coaina,  who,  by  a  quick  movement  of  her  hand, 
dashed  it  to  the  ground  and  placed  her  foot  upon 
it,  exclaiming  :  "In  the  name  of  Christ,  I  trample 
on  all  idolatry !" 

This  enraged  the  Indians  beyond  expression, 
and  thej  would  immediately  have  done  her  vio- 
lence for  her  contempt  of  a  right  which  they  held 
sacred,  had  not  Alideek  interposed  his  authority, 
which  they,  on  the  present  occasion,  suUenly 
obeyed. 

At  length  the  dawn  crept  through  the  crevices  of 
the  lodge,  and  ere  long  a  deeper  glow  of  r^rimson 
heralded  the  rising  of  the  sun ;  then  Ahdeek  ap- 
proached Coaina,  and  told  her  she  was  free  to  go. 
She  sprang  from  the  lodge,  like  a  wild  doe  from 
the  trap  of  the  hunter,  hoping  to  escape  the  attend- 
ance of  iJideek,  with  which  he  had  threatened  her, 
and  get  back  in  time  to  be  present  at  Mass ;  but 
he,  watchful  of  every  movement,  was  in  an  instant 
by  her  side,  and— weU  named  the  Deer-easily  kept 
pace  with  her  swift  footsteps.     Glorious  was  the 
rismg  of  .the  red  and  golden  light  out  of  darkness  • 
briUiantly  fell  the  splendid  rays  upon  the  hoar- 
frost, which  glimmered  like  myriads  of  tiny  crys- 


92 


COAINA. 


tals  on  the  grass  and  leaves ;  joyfully  dashed  the 
scarlet-crested  woodpecker  from  tree  to  tree;  a 
low  warbling  echoed  fitfully  and  sweetly  among  the 
gorgeous  foHage  of  the  forest ;  and  here  and  there, 
chattering  over  their  forage,  the  grey  squirrels, 
with  feathery  tail  erect,  scampered  up  and  down  the 
branches.  Nature  smiled,  rejoicing  over  the  birth 
of  this  new  day,  which  was  so  full  of  sorrow  to  the 
young  Indian  maiden,  now  hastening  homeward,  all 
heedless  of  the  brightness  around  her,  and  com- 
pelled to  bear  the  presence  of  her  enemy,  who 
kept  close  behind  her,  determined  not  to  separate 
himself  from  her  until  the  eyes  of  all  the  village 
had  witnessed  her  shame.  Suddenly  an  object 
standing  on  the  edge  of  a  projecting  rock,  and  half 
hidden  by  an  overhanging  hemlock  tree,  arrested 
Coaina's  attention ;  she  shaded  her  eyes  with  her 
hand,  and  looked  intently  for  an  instant,  then, 
uttering  a  low  cry,  she  stretched  her  arms  towards 
it,  but  it  disappeared  in  the  shadow  of  the  forest, 
flitting  away  Hke  a  mist  before  her  eyes.  Then  she 
fell  fainting  to  the  ground.    It  was  Tar-ra-hee ! 

Altontinon  had  sought  him  the  evening  before,  and 
told  him,  with  protestations  of  reluctance,  and  had 
even  shed  tears,  that  the  Iroquois  held  that  night 
the  festival  of  Taho  ;  that  she  had  good  reason  fcJf 


COAINA. 


93 


knowing  that  certain  of   their  people  would  be 
present,  and  advised  him,  as  chief  of  his  tribe,  to 
watch  and  see  if  any  baptized  Algonquin  attended 
it  secretly-then  she  hinted  at  her  hidden  griefs 
about  Coaina,  darkly  intimating  things  which  she 
declared  she  dared  not  disclose.    This  intemew 
following  so  close  upon  the  mysterious  biUet  he 
had  received,  aroused  in  Tar-ra-hee's  mind  the 
most  suspicious  vigilance.    He  could  not  sleep,  but 
long  before  da^vn  took  his  station  upon  the  over- 
hanging rock  we  have  described,  and  there  waiting 
patiently,  with  a  dull,  heavy  misgiving  at  his  heart, 
he  at  last  saw  Coaina  emerge  from  the  Iroquois' 
lodge,  attended  by  Alideek.    It  needed  no  more  to 
convince  him  that  Coaina  was  not  only  false  to 
him,  but  that  she  had  lived  a  most  hypocritical 
life,  and  was  unworthy  of  p.  regret.    He  was  a 
christian— he  would  not,  therefore,  revenge  himself 
pon  the  Iroquois  by  taking  his  life ;  he  would 
formally  and    publicly    annul    his    betrothal    to 
Coaina,  and,  leaving  her  to  the  punishment  her 
crime  deserved,  go  away  from  the  tribe,  to  hunt 
along  the  shores  of  the  dark  Sauganay. 

This  was  the  conclusion  which,  after  long  and 
silent  cogitations,  he  arrived  at ;  then  he  sought 
Father  Etienne,  and  laid  bare  his  heart  before  him; 


04 


COAINA. 


after  which  he  privately  consulted  with  the  chieJ 
men  of  his  people,  and  notified  them  to  meet  in 
solemn  assembly  the  next  day. 

Pause  an  instant,  reader,  whether  young  or  old, 
and  reflect  on  the  evils  of  malice,  slander  and  rash 
judgment.     "We  have  seen  how  innocent  Coaina 
was,  how  truly  pious  and  unblemished  was  her  life 
before  heaven  ;  and  yet  we  behold  her  clothed  with 
depravity  as  with  a  garment,  a  despised  and  re- 
jected outcast ;  wearing  all  the  appearance  of  guilt 
and  hypocrisy,  through  the  pride,  malice,  ambitim 
and  envy  of  others,  who,  still  esteemed  and  honored, 
triumphed  for  a  season  in  their  wickedness.     And 
remember,  friend,  this  is  no  fiction  I   Coaina  actually 
lived  and  suffered  as  our  feeble  pen  describes,  and 
to  this  day  the  young  girls  of  "  the  Lake  of  the 
Two  Mountains"  will  lead   the  stranger  to  her 
grave,  and  with  fast-falling  tears  relate,  as   they 
twine  wild  flowers  around  her  place  of  rest,  her 
moximful  story. 


COAINA. 


96 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

LIKE  A  SHEEP  BEFORE  HER  SHEARERS,  SHE  WAS 

DUMB. 

When  Coaina  saw  Tar-ra-hee  watching  from  tho 
crag,  and  knew  that  he  must  have  seen  her  leave  the 
Iroquois  lodge  followed  by  Ahdeek,  she  felt  as  if 
some  one  had  given  her  a  heavy  blow  on  her  head ; 
she  staggered  and  grew  faint  and  dizzy ;  then  every- 
thing like  brightness  faded  out  of  the  air,  and  she 
fell  to  the  earth,  bereft  of  consciousness.    Ahdeek 
stood,  for  a  moment,  perplexed  and  irresolute,  but 
an  idea  suddenly  presented  itself  which  not  only 
solved  the  difficulty  of  his  position,  but  turned  the 
accident  to  account ;  so,  lifting  the  light  and  insen- 
sible form  of  Coaina  in  his  strong  arms,  he  sped 
swiftly  to  the  village  of  the  Algonquins,  passing 
each  wondeiing  group  he  met  without  speaking 
until  he  reached  the  lodge^of  Altontinon,  who  met 
him  at  the  door  with  her  hair  disheveUed  and  hei 
face  disfigured  with  weeping,  surrounded  by  three 
or  four  of  her  relatives,  who  all  pressed  silentlvbut 


ye 


COAINA. 


eagerly  forward  to  look  upon  tho  pallid  face  lying 
so  helplessly  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  Iroquois. 

She  had  alarmed  the  whole  village,  the  night  be- 
fore, by  reporting  Coaina's  disappearance,  profess- 
ing all  the  time,  tho  greatest  grief  and  uneasiness 
about  her,  even  while  she  secretly  exulted  in  tho 
certainty  that  she  had  fallen  into  the  snare  spread 
for  her  by  her  maHcious  arts.  Now,  when  she  saw 
Coaina  brought  to  her  door  dead,  as  she  thought, 
her  pretended  grief  was  changed  to  genuine  alarm, 
and  wringmg  her  hands,  she  uttered  the  mournful 
and  pecuHar  cry  called  by  the  Indians  wakonowen, 
prolonging  its  shrill  cadences  until  the  whole  air 
echoed  with  its  sad  notes,  and  one  after  another, 
within  range  of  its  sound,  hurried  hither,  until  quite 
a  crowd  had  collected  in  and  around  the  lodge. 

"  She  is  not  dead,"  said  Ahdeek,  laying  his  light 
burden  down  upon  a  pile  of  skins  and  furs  hastily 
thrown  together  by  Winonah  and  some  of  the  wo- 
men. "  She  is  not  dead,"  he  continued,  as  Altonti- 
non  paused  in  her  lamentations  to  take  breath, 
while  every  ear  was  strained  to  catch  all  that  he 
liad  to  say,  "  but  the  Taho  was  too  much  for  her.'' 

"  The  Taho  r  screamed  a  woman,  drawing  her 
two  little  girls  close  to  her.    "Was  Coaina — the 


■li 


COAINA. 


1)7 


Lng 


child  of  our  Blessed  Mother— the  Eose  of  our 
tribe  there  T     . 

"  Esa !  esa !  and  she  the  head  of  the  Confrater- 
nity of  the  Rosary !"  exclaimed  another. 

"  And  to  think  ice  were  always  taught  to  try  and 
bo  like  Aer,"  added  a  young  girl. 

"/almost  felt  afraid  to  touch  the  hem  of  her 
garment!"  said  Winonah. 

"Oh,  the  detestable  hypocrite!"  said  an  old 
squaw,  wagging  her  head. 

"  To  think  how  we  all  loved  her  !"  said  a  young 
girl,  sadly. 

"  Think  of  her  deceiving  Father  Etienne  and  our 
young  chief !  It  is  good  she  was  caught  in  time  !" 
said  a  grave  lookmg  woman,  who  had  not  yet 
spoken. 

Old  Ma-kee  now  edged  his  way  feebly  through 
the  crowd,  and  stood  looking  down  on  the  still,  pit- 
eous face  of  Coaina.  The  muscles  in  his  old  with- 
ered cheeks  worked,  and  a  wonderfully  tender  and 
sorrowful  look  came  over  the  usual  fierce  expres- 
sion of  his  eyes.  He  stooped  down  and  smoothed 
her  small  dusky  hand,  and  laid  his  own  shrunken, 
tawny  hand  lightly  upon  her  forehead.  Then  he 
stood  up  and  said  :  "  To-Uc  has  done  no  evil.    I 


!li 


I 


i 


li 


CO.VINA. 

Baw  a  wliito  kitl  stung  to  doatli  by  a  mocoasiii :  / 
killed  tho  siiako.     I  wasyouug  then  ;  now  I  am  old, 
but  my  arm  ia  not  too  withered  to  strike  down  tlio 
snake  that  stung  To-hic.     Where  is  the  Irocjuois  ?" 
There  was  a  fierce,  deathly  gleam  in  the  old  pagan's 
eye  as  he  looked  around  the  circle  of  dusky  faces 
who  wore  watching  him ;  they  moved  back,  for  as 
he  moved  his  arm  it  lifted  his  blanket,  and  they 
saw  that  he  wore  a  long,  bright  knife  in  his  girdle, 
and  a  hatchet,  keenly  sharpened.     But  Ahdeek  had 
long  since  sHpped  away,  and  was  heard  of,  wtieks 
afterwards,  Inmting  in  the  forests  of  Maine     A 
grim  look  of  contempt  stole  over  Ma-kee's  foatures, 
then  he   turned   to  Altontinon    and    said:  "The 
snows  of  nearly  eighty  winters  have  brought  me 
wisdom.    I  see  what  I  see  and  know  what  I  know. 
T  found  a  young  pigeon  once  iu  the  forest,  with  its 
wing  broken.     I  put  it  into  a  nest  of  young  crows, 
and  watched.    The  old  mother  crow  came  home 
and   tore  the  pigeon  to  pieces  to  feed  her  own 
young."    Then  he  marched  off,  well  satisfied  that 
he  had  struck  no  chance  blow  at  Altontinon. 

"It's  no  wonder  old  Ma-kee  hkes  her,"  said 
Winonah,  "  since  she  goes  to  the  Taho,  and  is  a 
pagan  like  himself.  But  seel  Coaina  opens 
her  eyes !"  she  cried,  gazing  do^vn  with  gratified 


§n 


OOAINA. 


9U 


caocs 


malico  on  tlio  mournful  and  beautiful  face  of  her 

COUHJU. 

"Go  for  Father  Etionno,  Winonah.  FrienclH, 
stand  hiu^k,  and  give  the  unfortunate  one  air  and 
water.  She  niuHt  not  poriHli  in  her  wickodneRS. 
Oh,  to  think,  aftiu-  all  my  care— oh  !  oh  !  oh  !"— 
cried  Altontinon,  (luitc  ovorconui,  or  rather  pretend- 
ing to  be  8o. 

Every  one  Winonah  met  on  her  way  to  Father 
Etienne's.  she  told  the  news  that  Coaina  had 
"  spent  the  night  in  the  medicine  lodge  of  the  Iro- 
quois, and  assisted  at  their  superstitious  rites.  She 
went  with  Ahdeek,  and  eveiybody  knew  Ahdeek ; 
yes,  she  was  at  the  Taho,  and  everybody  knew 
what  that  was." 

"  So,"  thought  some,  "  wo  have  been  deceived." 
But  most  of  those  who  heard  the  strange  and 
dreadful  news  were  shocked  and  bewildered.  If 
that  bright  and  glorious  star,  worshipped  with  di- 
•vine  honors  by  their  fathers  in  the  primitive  days, 
and  still  regarded  by  the  Indians  as  the  most  splen- 
didly beauteous  of  all  that  spangle  the  blue  robes 
of  heaven,  had  fallen  a  black  and  shapeless  mass 
at  their  feet,  they  coidd  not  have  been  more  amazed 
than  at  the  fall  of  Coaina,  in  whom  they  had  never 
seen  speck  or  flaw,  and  who  was,  after  the  Blessed 


I 


\V 


I  •  ■. .. 


100 


COAINA. 


l;.f. 


Virgm,  the  purest  model  of  womanly  and  christian 
virtues  they  knev/  on  earth.     So  blithe,  so  modest, 
so   amiable  towards  all ;  "  who,"  they  wondered, 
"  could  ever  feel  envy  or  bitterness  for  Coaina  ? 
What  enemies  had  she  to  plan  such  slanders  ?  none. 
Then,  alas  !  it  must  be  true  !"    Alack-a-day !  the 
evil  days  had  indeed  come  for  the  young  Algonquin 
maid,  since  even  her  best  and  dearest  friends  and 
kinsmen  were  deceiyed.     There  was  none  to  help 
her  on  earth.     Only  the  Great  Spirit  and  His  Im- 
maculate Mother  knew  the  innocence  of  that  soul, 
which  was  to  suffer  such  ^-een  sorrows,  holding  it 
in  a  diviro  sanctuary;  the  powers  of  earth  might 
crucify  her  flesh,  but  never  pluck  down  or  wither  r 
single  blossom  of  her  crown ;  for  there  she  was  eter- 
nally safe.     But  having  formed  her  life  on  theirs, 
she  must  di-ink,  with  resignation,  of  their  bitter 
chalice— be,  like  Mary,  suspected  of  evil,  and,  Hke 
Jesus,  be  reviled  and  caat  out  by  her  own  people. 

And  the  good  Father  Etienne— he  was  but  hu- 
man !  There  was  no  supernatural  power  to  tell 
biiu  that  all  this  condemnatory,  circumstantial  evi- 
dence against  Coaina  was  utterly  false.  He  was 
speechless  when  Tai-ra-hee  told  him  T?hat  he  had 
witnessed  with  his  own  eyes.  It  seemed  like  the 
culminating  proof  of  all  else  that  had  been  whis- 


COAINA. 


101 


pered  against   her.    When  left  alone,  the    good 
priest,  with  a  sharp  pang  at  heart,  entered  tho 
sanctuary  to  mourn,  in  silence,  over  the  fall  of  this 
child  of  many  graces,  who  had  not  only  given  such 
scandal  to  religion,  and  humihated  christians,  but 
had  afforded  a  new  triumph  to  the  heathen  and  rai- 
beHevers,  and  to  pray  for  guidance  in  conducting 
the  trial  on  the  morrow.     Winonah  waited  long  to 
see  him,  and  when  he,  at  length,  left  the  chapel, 
she  dehvered  her  errand.    Without  speaking,  he 
turned  and  walked  quietly  to  Altontinon's  lodge, 
which  was,  by  tliis  ume,  crowded  with  the  friends 
and  kinsmen  of  Altontinou  and  Tar-ra-hee,  sitting 
or  standing,  in  grave  and  boding  silence,  around 
the  apartment,  while  in  the  midst,  seated  upon  a 
rude  bench  was  Coaina,  sHent,  palHd  and  drooping, 
her  long,  graceful  hands  folded  together  on  her 
knees,  while  her  attke,  usually  trim  and  neat,  was 
damp  and  disarranged,  and  her  long,  rich  tresses 
fell  carelesi^'ly  over  her  shoulders  to  the  earthen 
floor.     There  she  sat,  like  Job,  accused  of  a  hun- 
dred sins  of  which  she  was  guiltless.     There  she 
sat,  like  her  liord  in  the  hall  of  Pilate,  awaiting  the 
judgment  of  an  extreme  penalty  "or  the  crimes  of 
others.     Way  was  made  for  Father  Etienne  who, 
to  the  surprise  of  all,  was  followed  by  Tar-ra-hee, 


lil!|.!l 


II 


»„ 


102 


COAINA. 


stem,  grave  and  decorous,  his  rich  blanket  falling 
in  graceful  folds  from  his  shoulders,  and  wearing 
no  ornament  except  a  large  silver  medal  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin. 

Coaina  looked  up  when  she  saw  the  skii-t  of  Fa- 
ther Etienne's  soutane,  with  a  gleam  of  hope  in  her 
eyes  ;  but  when  she  saw  his  stem  countenance  and 
averted  eyes,  and  just  behind  liim  the  grave  and 
clouded  face  of  Tar-ra-hee,  over  which  gleamed  not 
a  single  ray  of  pity,  a  vivid  crimson  dyed  her  face, 
neck  and  hands  ;  her  eyehds,  heavy  with  their  long, 
dusky  lashes,  drooped  upon  her  cheeks,  and  her  lips, 
now  suddenly  grown  palHd,  quivered  with  agony. 

"  Coaina,"  said  Father  Etienne,  "  stand  up  and 
speak  the  trath  when  I  question  you.  For  the 
sake  of  your  own  soul  and  rehgion,  I  adjure  you, 
in  the  sacred  names  of  Jesus  and  Mary,  to  speak 
the  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth." 

"  I  will,  my  father,"  she  answered,  in  a  low,  dis- 
tinct tone,  as  she  arose. 

"  Where  did  you  spend  the  night  ?"     . 

"  In  the  medicine  lodge  of  the  Iroquois." 

"  Wliat  did  you  see  there  ?" 

"I  saw  the  Taho." 

"  Were  you  taken  to  the  medicine  lodge  by  vio- 
lence ?" 


COAINA. 


1   -^ 


« 


(( 


"No,  my  father,"  she  said,  looking  up  with  a  be- 
wildered expression. 
"  Who  did  you  see  there  you  knew?" 
"  Only  Ahdeek,  my  father." 
"  Why  did  you  go  there,  Coaina  ?" 

I  got  a  letter  from  you  teUing  me  to  come." 
Here  every  dusky  face  leaned  forward,  and  Fa- 
ther Etienne  knitted  his  brows,  while  his  face  ex- 
hibited the  strongest  emotion. 

"  That  is  false,  unfortunate  child  !    It  is  also  a 
slander,"  he  said  sternly.     "  Where  is  that  letter  ?" 
"  I  have  it  not,  my  father.    Ahdeek  tore  it  up." 
"  What  did  it  say  ?"  asked  Father  Etienne. 
"  It  said,  '  two  girls  of  the  Iroquois  are  dying, 
and  wiU  not  be  baptized  until  you  come.     Come 
quickly  to  the  lodge  beyond  the  pines  outside  the 
Iroquois  viUage.    That  is  what  I  remember.    Your 
name,  my  father,  was  to  it.    I  thought  I  obeyed 
you.    After  I  got  there  I  saw  that  I  was  entrapped, 
but  I  could  not  escape." 

"  That  is  a  weU  got  up  stoiy,  Coaina ;  shame 
upon  you!"  said  Altontinon,  stepping  foi-ward. 
"  No  letter  came  to  her,  my  father.  Winonah  says 
that  none  came.  Winonab  was  sick,  and  I  left  Co- 
aina to  nurse  her ;  but  she  left  her  and  went  away 
without  saying  where.     It  is  Uke  the  mantle  Ah- 


104 


COAINA. 


b;I 


deek  gave  her.    Ahdeek  has  been  Coaina's  lover 
since  she  was  a  child." 

"  Did  Ahdeek  give  you  that  mantle,  Coaina  ?" 
asked  Father  Etienne. 

"  I  was  told  that— that— Tar-ra-hee  had  left  it 
for  me,"  she  replied,  gently. 

"  Oh,  the  bold  one !"  exclaimed  her  aunt.  "  I 
told  her  before  Winonah  that  Ahdeek  had  brought 
her  the  mantle — she  knows  I  did.  And  now  1 
must  speak.  Coaina  is  not  honest.  She  is  not 
true.  She  steals  my  money,  and  sends  it  to 
Montreal  to  buy  finery.  She  has  told  me  many 
lies.  My  life  has  been  worn  out  with  her,  and  try- 
ing to  hide  her  faults.  Her  ingratitude  and  hypoc- 
risy I  could  bear,  but  I  dared  not  let  her  carry  dis- 
honor into  the  lodge  of  Tar-ra-hee." 

"There  are  calumnies,"  says  a  modern  writer, 
"  so  great  as  to  confuse  innocence  itself."  Thus  it 
was  with  poor  Coaina.  She  saw  that  the  evidence 
against  her  was  strong,  without  being  true.  Events 
had  encompassed  her  like  a  net,  and  confirmed  all 
the  slanders  of  her  enemies.  Everything  mads  her 
appear  more  guilty ;  there  was  no  witness  to  dis- 
prove the  charges,  and  benumbed  in  her  still 
anguish,  she  said  not  a  word,  but,  "  lilce  a  sheep 
before  her  shearers,  she  was  dumb." 


■ 


i\  ll 


COAINA. 


105 


9" 


"  Miserable  cliilcl,"  said  Father  Etienne,  break- 
ing the  breathless  silence,  while  tears  rolled  un- 
bidden over  his  aged  cheeks.  "  There  is  nothing 
left  for  you  but  penance  for  3'our  vices  and  crimes. 
You  have  brought  great  scandal  on  religion,  you 
have  wounded  charity,  you  have  been  guilty  of 
base  ingratitude,  joii  have  outraged  decency,  and, 
to  crown  your  sins,  you  have  renewed  the  bitter 
Passion  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  pierced  with  a  sword 
of  grief  the  heart  of  His  tender  Mother.  I  cannot 
pronounce  youi'  sentence  until  the  assembly  investi- 
gate your  case  and  consult  upon  it.  I  came  here 
hoping  to  find  you  innocent ;  I  go  away  believing 
you  guilty.  Go  to  your  room,  and  remain  there 
until  your  people  decide  upon  your  punishment, 
and  may  Almighty  God  biing  you  to  repentance." 

Coaina  arose,  folded  her  hands  upon  her  bosom, 
and  bowed  in  token  of  obedience,  then  walked 
tremblingly  away  to  the  curtained  corner  of  the 
lodge  called  hers.  Lifting  the  cuLrtain,  she  disap- 
peared from  the  eyes  of  her  traducers  and  enemies, 
and  falling  prostrate  upon  the  floor,  her  soul  sent 
up  its  strong  appeal  unto  Him  avIio  alone  knew 
her  innocence ;  to  Him  who  would  never  turn 
away  from  her,  and  on  whose  strong  arm  she  could 
lean  on  this  her  day  of  tribulation ;  to  Hitu  in 


ill  I, 


h  '. 


106 


COAINA. 


whom  sl>ts  would  trust,  even  though  He  might  slay 
her.  But  the  passion  of  her  grief  was  bitter.  She 
was  only  human,  and  this  casting  of  her  out,  this 
rending  of  the  ties  which  had  so  long  bound  her  to 
her  friends,  her  director,  her  kinsmen,  was  terrible 
to  bear,  and  gave  separate  and  fierce  wounds  to 
her  natural  life,  as  each  one  was  parted  asunder. " 
The  cross  was  heavy  to-day,  but  on  the  morrow 
it  would  become  almost  insupportable,  while  the 
clouds  hangmg  gloomily  above  her  would  gather 
more  darkly  around  her  way. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

coaina's   sentence. 

To  DESCRIBE  the  judicial  proceedings  of  the  as- 
sembly in  Coaina's  case  would  stretch  my  narra- 
tive to  a  wearisome  length ;  therefore,  I  will  simply 
relate  that,  after  due  dehberation  and  a  careful 
examination  of  the  apparent  facts  of  the  case,  those 
facts  which,  according  to  the  judgment  of  all  con- 
cerned, were  mcontestibly  proved  by  credible  wit- 
nesses, a  verdict  way  rer  lered,  and  sentence  pro- 
nounced on  the  beautiful  and  innocent  Rose  o/  the 


; 


II 


■■t  ■  ■ 


COAINA. 


107 


Algonquins.    Here  I  will  quote  from  Monsigneur 
De  C 's  statement. 

Coaina  was  sentenced : 

"•First.  To  live  alone  in  a  hut  adjoining  her 
aunt's  lodge. 

"Second.  To  perform  such  servile  offices  for  her 
as  might  be  needed. 

"  Third.  To  seek  and  encourage  no  intercourse 
with  the  young  people  of  the  mission. 

"Fourth.  To  wear  the  garb  of  a  pubHc  penitent. 

"Fifth.  To  have  her  hair  cut  close,  and  wear  a 
coarse  veil. 

"Sixth  (and  the  most  terrible  of  all  to  her).  She 
was  to  be  deprived  of  the  sacraments,  and  was  for- 
bidden to  enter  the  chapel,  but  was  to  kneel  in  her 
penitential  dre?s  at-  the  door,  during  the  celebra^ 
tion  of  all  the  sacred  rites,  offices  and  ceremonies 
of  the  Church,  with  the  title  of  hypocrite  printed  in 
large  letters  and  suspended  upon  her  breast." 
•  On  the  same  day  she  was  invested  in  her  robes 
of  humihation.  Crowned  with  ignominy,  she  knelt 
at  the  door  of  that  chapel  of  which  she  was  the 
angel,  receiving,  instead  of  homage,  the  cold  sneers, 
the  cruel  wbisp(3rs,  the  ,open  condemnation,  the 
mockery  and  scorn  of  all  who  passed  her  by. 

Let  us  pciuse  here  an  instant,  to  discriminatfi 


ill 

':i 

'     i! 


108 


COAINA. 


between  the  malice  and  h>'pocrisy  of  Coaina's  ene- 
mies who  hmw  her  innocence,  and  the  mistaken 
conviction  of  those  of  her  former  fiiends  who  be- 
Hevcd  her  guilty.     For  the  first  there  is  no  excuse ; 
thej  dehberately  and  maliciously  planned  the  deso- 
lation and  ruin  of  that  young  life ;  they  made  it 
appear  that  a  gi'eat  and  public  scandal  had  been 
committed,  and  so  pei-jured  themselves  as  to  de- 
ceive not  only  the  good  Father  Etienne,  but  also 
the  sincere  christians  of  his  flock,  who  thought  her 
punishment,  when  measured  by  her  apparent  guilt, 
was  not  too  heavy.     The  ill  opinion  of  the  wicked 
is  without  a  sting ;  but  when  the  good,  the  charita- 
ble and  just,  deceived  by  false  reports,  or  other- 
wise, array  themselves  against  one,  then  indeed  au 
indescribale  bitterness  is  added  to  the  cup  of  woe, 
and  the  soul  cries  out,  in  the  darkness  and  desola- 
tion of    its   abandomnent :  " My  God!  why  hast 
Thou  forsaken  me  ?"    All  of  Coaina's  former  friends 
and  admirers  could  now  only  regard  her  as  a  hypo- 
crite, who  had  long  and  speciously  deceived  them ; 
so,  full  of  horror  at  the  reflection  of  her  sacrilegious 
life,  they  shrunk  from  her  as  from  a  pestilence,  and 
publicly  resented  the  dishonor  and  scandal  she  had 
brought  upon  religion.    And  yet  these  were  inno- 
cent before  heaven,  through  the  blindness  of  human 


COAINA. 


109 


judgment ;  the  originators  of  the  monstrous  ^n•ong 
were  alone  responsible  for  aU  the  evil  and  all  the 
scandal  that  had  grown  out  of  their  selfish  pride 
and  malice.     Old  Ma-kee,  who  was  a  heathen,  you 
know,  caring  neither  for  God  or  man,  paid  no  heed 
to  the  interdict,  and  had  no  feehng  except  that  of 
indignation  at  the  humiliation  of  the  only  thing 
upon  earth  that  he  loved,  and  he  resented  it  by 
disoT^Tiing  his  peoi:)le,  as  they  had  disowned  her. 
It  was  he  who  gathered  the  wild  forest  flowers  and 
brought  them  to  her  hut,  or  laid  them  beside  her 
as  she  knelt  at  the  chapel  door ;  it  was  he  whose 
harsh  old  quavering  voice  fell  in  accents  of  Idndness 
upon  her  ear ;  he  who,  more  than  once,  had  given 
such  sudden  and  wejl-aimed  blows  at  the  urcliins 
who  taunted  and  mocked  her  that  they  fell  stunned 
and  sprawhng  upon  the  grass.     To  Altontinon  and 
"Winonah  he  had  become  an  incubus  and  teiTor. 
They  cowered  beneath  the  fierce  gleam  of  the  old 
pagan's  eye,  and  would  rather  have  heard  the  most 
deafening  thunder  that  ever  sped  its  bolt  mto  the 
depths  of  the  forest,  than  to  hear  old   Ma-kee's 
bitter  whisper  of  "  Snakes !  snakes !  snakes !"  his-sed 
in  their  ear  as  they  passed-by. 

Deeply  touched  by  the  old  Indi  m's  constant 
affection,  Coaina  prayed  incessantly  for  his  conver- 


110 


COAINA. 


flion,  and  also  for  that  of  her  aunt  and  cousin,  as 
well  as  of  aU  others  who  had  injured  her.  In  fact, 
she,  who  had  been  cast  out  as  unworthy  by  jior 
people,  was  now  their  pleading  angel,  who  forgot 
her  ^Tongs  in  the  exercise  of  a  divine  charity. 

Father  Etieune  sorrowed  and  prayed  for  the 
poor  penitent,  wlio  bore  her  cross  with  such  sweet- 
ness and  patience ;  he  had  at  times  a  suspicion 
that  she  was  the  innocent  victim  of  a  base  plot  ; 
but  the  mystery— if  there  was  one— was  too  deep 
for  him  to  fathom,  and  the  scandal  had  been  too 
pubhc  to  go  unpunished.  And  so  the  time  passed 
until  the  next  moon,  when  the  Indians  departed 
-with  their  families  and  household  effects,  in  their 
birchen  canoes,  for  the  distant  .northwest,  where, 
surrounded  by  incredible  hardships,  they  hunted 
the  bison  and  the  deer,  the  otter  and  the  mink,  the 
beaver  and  the  bear,  and  other  smaller  game. 
Coaina  accompanied  them,  still  as  a  pubHc  peni- 
tent, and  the  servant  of  her  aunt,  the  change  bring- 
ing naught  to  her  except  greater  hardships,  wliich 
she  bore  without  murmuring. 

And  so  three  years  passed  by.  The  mystery 
was  still  unsolved,  and  Coaina  still  wore  her  peni- 
tential garb,  was  still  interdicted  an  approach  to 


OOAINA. 


Ill 


the  sacraments,  was  still  a  by-word  aud  reproach 
among  her  people.    The  only  event  of  any  import- 
ance in  prospect,  was  the  reported  mamage  of 
Tar-ra-hee  and  Winonah,  for  which  it  was   said, 
preparations  were  being  made.    Alideek  never  re- 
appeared among  his  people.     It  was  rumored  that 
in  crossing  the  St.  Lawrence  in  liis  canoe,  it  had 
been  drawn  into  the  whirl  of  the  rapids,  and  dashed 
over  the  great  falls  into  the  foaming  abyss  below. 
An  Indian  certainly  perished    there  about    that 
time,  within  sight  of  thousands  of  spectators,  and 
as  he  never  returaed  or  was  heard  of  again,  the 
inference  was  accepted  that  the  unfortunate  wretch 
was  Ahdeek. 

Again  came  the  month  of  the  falling  leaves,  and 
once  more  the  mission  was  in  a  grand  commotion, 
preparing  for  the  annual  migration  to  the  distant 
hunting  grounds,  two  thousand  miles  off.  Father 
Etienne,  as  usual,  was  to  accompany  them.  Another 
priest,  a  young  and  saintly  missionary,  who  had 
fled  from  the  endearments  of  noble  kindred  and 
home  in  his  dear  land  of  France ;  who  had  turned 
his  back  upon  honors  and  all  the  charms  of  civiHza- 
tion,  to  labor  among  the  heathen  tribes  of  the  far 
west— asked  and  gained  permissi  i  to  join  com- 


112 


COAINA. 


pany  ^nth  thorn,  an  inciJeut  which  was  a  great 
solace  to  Father  Etionne,  who  was  growing  old. 
(Monsigncur  Do  C.) 

On  a  certain  day  they  all  embarked  in  their  frail 
canoes,  to  start  on  their  joerilous  voyage  to  the 
westoni  plains.  At  certain  places,  to  avoid  the 
swecphig  rapids,  the  terrific  rocks  and  falls,  they 
leave  the  river,  carrying  their  canoes  and  baggage 
past  the  dangerous  spots,  when  they  again  launch 
their  frail  vessels,  and  embark. 

Bearing  the  same  hardships  and  dangers  as 
themselves.  Father  Etienne  cheered  and  encour- 
aged tliom  as  much  by  his  counsel  as  his  example, 
performing  the  offices  of  priest  and  comforter  with 
tireless  zeal,  sometimes  celebrating  the  holy  mys- 
tciies  on  the  bosom  of  some  broad,  calm  river,  with 
the  picturesque  fleet  dra^vn  up  in  perfect  order 
around  the  floating  altar,  the  paddles  at  rest,  and 
gay  pennons  flying,  wliile  every  dusky  face  and 
form  in  the  gentle  rocking  canoes  was  bent  with 
reverent  and  adoring  attention  towards  the  "  canoe 
of  prayer  and  sacrifice."  These  were  occasions  of 
deep  and  unutterable  joy  to  our  poor  penitent,  who, 
sometimes  near,  and  sometimes  farther  off,  in  her 
aunt's  canoe,  witnessed  the  sacred  mystery.  Some- 
times Mass  was  celebrated  r;-der  the  flame-colored 


I  li 


\  groat 
ng  old. 


eir  frail 
to  the 
Did  the 
Is,  thoy 
laggage 
launch 

^ers  as 
encoiir- 
sample, 
ier  ■with 
ly  mys- 
er,  -with 
t  order 
3st,  and 
Lce  and 
nt  witli 
" canoo 
sions  of 
at,  who, 
,  in  her 
Some- 
colored 


COAINA. 


113 


branch  OS  of  the  primeval  forest ;  sometimes  on  the 
mountain  side ;  sometimes  upon  a  desolate  shore. 
But  it  was  the  groat  refreshment  and  consolation 
of  this  weary  nomadic  people,  when  and  wherever 
celebrated.  The  place  was  nothing  to  them— the 
sacrament  everything. 

One  sad  incident  occurred.  The  canoe  in  which 
the  young  Fi.  m. h  missionary,  with  four  Abnaki 
Indians,  were  making  the  voyage,  one  day  got  far 
ahead  of  the  mission  flotilla,  which  proceeded 
slowly,  on  account  of  the  dangerous  rapids,  whose 
cun-ent  was  powerfully  felt  long  before  they  were 
seen ;  nor  could  all  the  signals  which  were  made 
for  fhem  to  return  induce  them  to  do  so— probably 
they  were  misunderstood  as  cheering  signals  for 
them  to  proceed  in  the  race  they  had  won  so  far  in 
advance.  Suddenly  the  canoe  was  drawn  into  the 
mighty  current,  and  whirled  like  a  dead  leaf 
amongst  the  foaming,  shrieking  waters ;  now  lost 
to  sight  amid  cataracts  of  spray,  now  tossed  like  a 
fi^atlier  on  the  gale,  high  upon  the  surface,  with 
^iv.  ii.man  beings  clinging  hopelessly  to  its  sides. 
Then,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  it  was  engulphed 
forever ;  the  young  missionary  received  the  reward 
of  eternal  life  for  the  mortal  life  he  had  so  gener- 
ously and  nobly  given  to  God's  sei-vioe. 


ii! 


I!li, 


il'' 
W 


m. 


114 


COAINA. 


At  length,  having  arrived  at  the  place  best  suited 
for  their  purposes,  and  most  convenient  for  hunt- 
ing, the  Indians   disembarked,  and  each    family 
selecting    a  site,  erected    a  wigwam   of    boughs, 
wliich  they  covered  with  skins  sewed  together.    In 
a  short  time  the  business  of  the  winter  begins ;  the 
men,  and  women  also,  hunt  and  fish  continually, 
living  upon   the  animals  they  kill;   dressing   the 
skins,  and  preserving  with  great  care  the  costly 
furs,  which  they  sell  readily  in  Montreal  for  high 
prices,  and  to  traders  from  the  United  States.    In 
this  hunting  expedition  no  one  was  more  expert  or 
successful  than  Coaina  in  securing  much   costly 
game.     Her  aim  was  unerring,  and  when  she  drew 
the  string  of  her  bow  her  arrow  sped  hke  lightning 
into  a  vital  part  of  the  animal,  without  tearing  the 
fur.     Swans,  wild    turkeys,   an  eagle,   and    small 
game  of  every  kind,  loaded  her  aunt's  wigwam, 
who,  .with  Wmonah,  prepared  the  peltry  for  the 
markets,  sheltered  from  cold,  and  enduring  no  real 
hardships.    But  still  they  found  no  kind  word  for 
the    patient    Coaina.     Injurious    epithets,  blows, 
scanty  fare,  and  hardships  of  every  kind  were  her 
reward.     What  incited  them  to  gTeater  mahgnity, 
was  the  fact  that  Tar-ra-hee  had  left  his  people,  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Sauganay,  to  spend  the  winter 


OOAINA. 


115 


sst  suited 
or  liunt- 
i    family 
boughs, 
her.    In 
ins;  the 
tinually, 
ing   the 
e  costly 
for  high 
tes.    In 
Xpert  or 
I   costly 
he  drew 
ghtning 
•ing  the 
I    small 
/igwam, 
for  the 
no  real 
ord  for 

blows, 
ere  her 
dignity, 
oiDle,  at 

winter 


with  some  of  his  braves  on  its  bleak  shores,  to  hunt 
the  white  bear,  the  seal  and  the  beaver,  and  for 
tljis  disappointment  they  wreaked  their  spite  on 
Coaina,  whose  heart,  sore,  and  almost  breaking 
under  the  torture  of  her  undeserved  ill-usage,  clung 
tremblingly  and  closer  to  Jesus  and  Mary,  fearful 
that  after  all  she  should  lose  patience  and  forfeit 
her  only  good.     But  nothing  touched  the  hearts  of 
these  evil-minded,  o})durate  women ;  her  very  pa- 
tience and  defencelessness,  so  far  from  appealing 
to  their  generosity  and  forbearance,  seemed  to  ex- 
cite them  to  greater  cruelty  and  mahce.    No  one 
observed  it,  but  Coaina's  cheek  had  lost  its  beau- 
tiful roundness  of  outhne  ;  her  step,  still  swift  and 
agile,  was  often  checked  by  shortness  of  breath, 
and  wild,  painful  heart-throbs.     The  rich  blood  no 
longer  glo^\ od  in  transparent  suffusion  through  her 
amber-colored  skin,  and  delicately  chiseled  hpa ; 
there  was  a  spot  of  crimson  upon  each  tliin  check, 
Hke  the  first  reddening  flame  which  consumes  the 
life  of  the  mapio  leaf  in  autumn.    Her  (yes — ;.ow 
seldon'i  lifted — sparkled  with  a  strange  glow  be- 
neath her  heavy  eye-lids,  and  when  suddenly  raised 
by  some  one  speaking  to  her,  or  in  surprise  at  some 
distant  sound,  they  looked  like  those  of  a  hu  ited 
giizello, ,   Outcast  and  despised,  her  commu- higa 


ip 


I 


116 


OOAINA. 


liad  long  ceased  to  be  of  this  life,  or  of  its  smal. 
aifairs.  The  world  had  thrown  her  oft*  as  mor« 
worthless  than  the  refuse  of  a  dung-liill ;  but  could 
the  veil  have  been,  but  one  moment,  withdrawn, 
could  mortal  eyes  have,  but  for  one  instant,  beheld 
the  "glorious  ones  in  shining  raiment"  who  sur- 
rounded her,  who  enfolded  her  within  the  embraces 
of  their  stainless  wings,  guarding  her  soul's  integ- 
rity as  a  precious  and  priceless  jewel,  they  would 
have  fallen,  upon  their  faces  before  her,  invokuig 
her  forgiveness  and  prayers. 

But  neither  to  her  or  them  was  such  sight 
vouchsafed.  The  designs  of  God  must  ripen  ac- 
cording to  His  wisdom,  and  for  Coaina  the  con- 
summation was  near  at  hand. 


OOAINA. 


117 


ks  smal. 
IS  more, 
it  could 
idrawn^ 
beheld 
ho  sur- 
obraces 
s  uiteg- 
r  would 
ivokmg 

1  sight 
pen  ac- 
le  con- 


CHAPTEB  IX. 

_   THE    TWO    SHADOWS. 

The  season  of  leaves  and  flowers  had  agam  rolled 
round ;  the  bluebird  wliistled  in  the  air,  and  the 
bobolink  sounded  his  low  bugle  as  he  raided  with 
his   bro^vn   troopers  througli  the  feathery  ferns. 
Everything  wore  a  gay  and  prosperous  look  in  the 
village  of  the  lake.     The  hunting  season  had  been 
extremely  successful,  not  only  in  the  quantity  of 
game  secured,  but  in  the  quality  and  abundance  of 
rare  furs,  skins,  and  other  valuable  peltries  they 
were  enabled  to  bring  home.    Better  still,  the  price 
of  peltries  had  gone  up  considerably  higher  than 
\^^s  ever  known  before,  owing  to  an  increased  de- 
mand from  the  United  States  and  England,  which 
was  really  in  excess  of  the  supply ;  hence  our  Indi- 
ans of  the  mission  found  themselves  richer  than 
they  liad  ever  been  before.     On  Sundays  and  holi- 
days the  church  looked  like  a  tropical  'parterre, 
with  the  array  of  rich,  bright  colors  hi  the  attii'e  of 
the  women,  whose  new  variegated  handkerchiefs, 


I  ill 


;si!|! 


I  !  ' 


I  1 


Mi|l. 


lis 


COAINA. 


H: 


blue  scarfs,  scarlet  petticoats,  spangled  jackets  and 
fringed  tunics,  were  in  harmonious  keeping  "vvitli 
the  magnificent  hunting  shirts — decorated  with 
beads  and  fringes — of  the  men,  who  displayed  new 
scarlet  leggings,  wrought  curiously  with  porcupine 
quills,  and  moccasins  flaming  with  scarlet,  with 
glittering  beads  and  tinsel.  Altontinon  and  Wino- 
nah  held  their  heads  higher  than  ever,  while  the 
extreme  gaudiness  of  their  apparel,  extravagant 
both  in  texture  and  style,  attracted  every  eye. 
While  the  other  women  and  young  girls  observed 
a  fitting  degree  of  moderation  and  modesty  in  their 
attire,  these  two  flaunted  about  arrayed  in  the 
gaudiest  colors,  the  flasliiest  trinkets,  the  heaviest 
coils  of  beads,  and  the  most  exaggerated  style  of 
garments  that  the  wildest  Indian  fancy  could  sug- 
gest, or  the  markets  of  Montreal  supply. 

A  great  improvement  w.ns  also  evident  in  the 
increased  comforts  of  their  rude  lodges,  in  the 
richer  adornment  of  their  beloved  chapel,  and  the 
quality  and  quantity  of  their  agricultural  imple- 
ments ;  indeed,  the  village  of  the  "  Lake  of  the  Two 
Mountains"  seemed  like  the  centre  of  a  happy 
pastoral  Arcadia,  into  which  no  grief  could  en\;er. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  gay  prosperity  and  cheer- 
ful plenty,  there  was  (?ver  moving  to  and  fro,  o-* 


COAINA. 


119 


kneeling  with  bowed  head  at  the  chapel  door,  a 
silent,  shadowy  form,  clothed  in  coarse,  penitential 
garments  of  grey.  This  shadowy,  veiled  figure 
was  never  noticed,  except  to  be  jostled  aside  and 
scoffed  at  as  it  ghded  through  the  mission  grounds. 
And  it  moved  Hke  one  walking  m  a  dream.  If  she 
was  jostled  rudely,  or  called  out  to  roughly,  or  had 
her  veil  or  garments  plucked  at  by  the  village 
urchms,  she  would  suddenly  Hft  her  great  soft  eyes, 
and  with  a  bright,  wild  glance  around,  as  if  she 
had  been  startled  from  solemn  reverie,  deep  within 
her  inner  life,  smile  sorrowfully,  look  down  again, 
and  move  on. 

There  was  this  shadow,  which  the  Algonquins 
saw  daily ;  a  shadow  for  whose  presence  they  had 
only  contempt,  or  a  silent  indifference— the  shadow 
of  a  crushed  life,  the  summing  up  of  all  that  slan- 
der could  do. 

But  there  was  another  shadow  coming  towards 
them,  slowly  and  inevitably,  the  very  thought  of 
which  made  the  bravest  heart  among  them  quail. 
This  shadow  had  ah-eady  reached  Montreal,  and 
they  even  now  felt  the  vibrations  of  its  noiseless 
but  mighty  tread,  already  felt  the  cold  thriU  of  its 
viewless  form.  They  couid  not  keep  it  away; 
neither  bamers  nor  aU  the  engmeering  that  science 


11' 


l!i  I 


I 


lilli 
.1*' 

P 


120 


COAINA. 


has  ever  taught — neither  tlie  bravery  of  warriors, 
the  exorcism  of  priests,  nor  the  tears  and  prayers 
of  a  people,  could  stay  its  course,  because  it  was 
the  stern  messenger  of  the  Most  High,  whose  mis- 
sion it  was  to  chasten,  to  pimish  and  remind  the 
world  of  the  judgment  to  come.  It  was  the  cholera! 
and  as  it  strode  towards  them,  while  every  face 
wore  an  anxious,  a  sad  or  thoughtful  expression,  the 
face  of  the  other  shadow  which  was  clothed  in  the 
robes  of  penance  grew  more  serene  and  bright,  as 
if  that  which  brought  such  terror  to  all,  only  came 
a  messenger  of  hope  to  her.  And  so  it  was.  '=If 
it  were  only  the  Great  Spirit's  sAveet  will,"  she 
thought,  "  it  will  bring  one  deliverance  and  rest ; 
but  His  will,  not  mine,  be  done  !" 
-  One  da} — it  was  a  bright  and  glorious  morning, 
just  such  a  one  as  that  on  which  the  malignant 
plans  laid  for  Coaina's  ruin  seemed  crowned  with 
success — there  suddenly  arose  from  AltontinonV 
lodge,  shrill,  piercing  cries  of  pain,  blended  with 
the  mournful  walwnoiuin.  The  shadow  had  come ! 
it  had  entered  Altontinon's  lodge,  and  stricken  her 
down  even  while  she  exulted  in  her  health,  her 
wickedness  and  her  prosperity.  Messengers  ran 
here  and  there  for  assistance.    Father  Etienne  was 


OOAINA. 


121 


soon  beside  lier  writhing,  tortured  form,  but  her 
kinsmen  and  people  stood  aloof,  cowering  outside 
the  lodge,  their  hearts  quailing  within  them  as  her 
shrieks  of  agony  rent  the  air.    "While  she  wrestled 
for  life  with  this  awful  shadow,  the  shadow  in  the 
garments  of  penance  ministered  to  her  needs.     It 
was   Coaina    (obeying    the  directions    of    Father 
Etienne)  who  applied  the  hot  poultices,  who  ad- 
ministered the  fiery  draughts  which  were  thought 
efficacious,  and  which  loere  marvellously  so  in  ordi- 
nary cases;  it  was  she  who  performed  the  most 
repulsive  offices  for  the  agonized  woman,  who  wept 
over  her,  who  clung  to  her  cramped  hands,  who 
kissed  her  cold  feet,  and  prayed  without  ceasing 
for  her.     None  else  would  come  near  or  touch  her. 
Winonah,  trembhng  and  palhd,  crouched  in  a  dis- 
tant corner,  her  head  bowed  upon  her  knees,  inca- 
pable of  performing  the  sHghtest  duty.     Suddenly 
Altontinon  cried  out :  "  I  wronged  her !     I  ruined 
'her !     She  is  innocent  of  all !     Coaina,  forgive  me ! 
forgive  me !    You  are  an  angel !    I  am  a  devil ! 
O,  pray  for  me  to  the  Holy  Mother!    Do  not  let 
me  be  cast  into  hell !     O,  save  me  from  the  flames ! 
Hold  me   fast,  Coaina!  '  O,  Christ,  forgive  me  I 
Coaina,  forgive  me !" 


i2s; 


OOAINA. 


"I  forgive  thee,  my  aunt,  as  I  hope  Christ  will 
forgive  me,"  she  answered,  kissing  tlio  blue,  trem- 
bling lips  of  the  dying  sinner. 

"  Father  Etienne,  hear  me !  hear  me !  I  will 
confess "  but  here  ensued  such  a  mortal  strug- 
gle that  she  was  unable  to  continue.  Her  head 
was  drawn  roimd,  her  features,  pmchcd  and  blue, 
were  distorted  with  agony,  and  her  arms  and  legs, 
drawn  away,  were  knotted  in  muscular  distortions 
fearful  to  behold.  Father  Etienne,  startled  by  her 
confession  of  guilt,  feared  that  the  last  agony  was 
upon  her,  and  knelt  to  pray  for  her  departing  soul. 
Coaina,  also  praying,  bathed  her  feet  with  her 
tears.  But  the  paroxysm  subsided,  and  an  interval 
of  comparative  ease  ensued — of  ease  which  was  but 
the  forerunner  of  that  rest  from  suffering  which  the 
tortured  body  would  soon  enjoy. 

"  Call  my  child— call  my  kindred  around  me," 
said  Altontinon,  in  feeble  tones.  "  Quick,  tell  them 
to  come,  I  have  many  words  to  say  before  them." 

Father  Etienne  said:  "Tour  confession  first; 
your  confession ;  then,  what  time  you  have  left, 
say  all  that  you  wish." 

"  It  is  my  confession.  I  must  confess  in  public 
the  evil  I  did  in  secret.  O,  my  father,  call  them 
quickly,  or  I  die  !"  plead  Altontinon. 


COAINA. 


123 


'  Father  Etieiino  did  as  she  desired,  but  it  was 
only  by  the  most  urgent  entreaties  that  ho  c(  uld 
get  Winonah  and  the  rest  to  approach  the  dying 
woman,  whose  shrunken  features  and  paUid  skin, 
which  already  hung  loose  and  wrinkled  from  her 
bones,  were  dripping  with  the  cold  dews  of  disso- 
lution, while  the  blue,  ghastly  shadow  threw  its 
cadaverous  hue  over  it  all.  The  group  of  her  kins- 
men and  friends  who  entered  stood  some  distance 
o&,  looking  with  dread  at  her  changed  appear- 
ance. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  "  listen  to  my  words,  for  this 
is  my  last  confession.  I  mined  her  by  my  malice," 
she  contini*ed,  pointing  her  shrunken  and  almost 
powerless  hand  to  Coaina  ;  "  because  I  wanted  my 
own  child  to  be  the  wife  of  Tar-ra-hee.  I  held 
counsel  with  Ahdeek,  the  Iroquois,  who  brought 
the  robe,  and  I  mo<.ie  up  the  story  that  Tar-ra-hee 
had  left  it  for  \uk  vdd  wished  her  to  wear  it 

to   meet  him   on   ii  re.    /  wrote  the  letter 

that  beguiled  her  to  tne  medicine  lodge !  I  set 
Tar-ra-hee  to  watch  her !  I  arranged  the  whole 
plot  to  expose  her !  I  persuaded  my  kinsmen  to 
circulate  evil  reports  about  her  !  I  made  my  own 
child  lie,  and  make  oath  to  her  lie,  that  Coaina  was 
a  thief !     /  did  it !    Coaina  is  guiltless  !     No  bay)- 


i  li 


ii  .'I 


124 


COAINA. 


tized  babe  could  be  purer !    O,  Coaina !  can  you 
forgive  me  1" 

"  My  child,"  said  Father  Eticnne,  tears  flowing 
orer  his  cheeks,  as  he  approached  and  knelt  before 
Coaina,  "  my  child,  can  you  forgive  us  all  ?" 

"  O,  my  father  !"  cried  Coaina,  covered  with  con- 
fusion, as  she  knelt,  and  lifting  the  hem  of  his 
soutane,  pressed  it  to  her  lips,  "  this  is  too  mucli." 

"  Say,  my  chHd,  that  you  forgive  us,"  said  Father 
Etienne. 

"  O,  my  father !  yes,  yes !  ten  thousand,  thou- 
sand  times— but'  no !  what  have  I  to  forgive  ?  O, 
my  aunt !  if  you  knew  the  peace  and  consolation 
that  sufferings  have  brought  me,  you  would  rejoice, 
and  be  glad  I"  exclaimed  Coaina,  while  her  counte- 
nance shone  with  a  divine  peace.  There  was  no 
exultation  to  mar  its  serenity,  or  cloud  the  tender 
pity  of  her  eyes,  now  restmg  upon  the  face  of 
Altontinon. 

"O,  my  father,  darkness  gathers  around  me," 
said  Altontinon,  in  a  low,  solemn  voice.  "  Coaina, 
do  you  forgive  me  ?" 

"  As  I  hope  Christ  to  forgive  me,  so  do  I  forgive 
you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,"  she  replied. 

"  Then  will  Be  forgive  me !  Oh,  my  sins !  my 
dins  I    Father,  help  me !    The  shadows  grow  dark- 


COAINA. 


125 


my 


er— -the  winds  colder,"  cried  Altontinon,  shudder- 
ing. 

Fa%er  Etienne  made  a  sign  and  all  withdrew 
from  the  presence  of  the.  fast  sinking  woman— her 
guilty  accomplices  filled  with  confusion  and  dread ; 
the  othen-  bewildered  by  the  strange  revelations 
and  appalling  scenes  they  had  witnessed  ;  all  with- 
drew except  Coaina,  whoso  hand  was  held  fast  in 
the  death  grasp  of  Altontinon.     Father  Etienne 
leaned  over  and  heard  her  low  murmuring  words 
of  penitence ;  her  voice  was  almost  gone,  or  she 
would  have  declared  her  sins  aloud ;  in  view  of  her 
great  guilt,  a:  id  the  near  approach  of  the  dread 
judgment,  no  motive  of  human  respect  or  shame 
could  have  withheld  her ;  her  only  desire  7^0?^;  was 
to  relieve  her  conscience,  that  she  might  depart  in 
the  humble  hope  of  one  day  finding  safety  and 
peace.     Convinced  of  her  true  penitence,  Father 
Etienne  administered  Extreme  Unction,  and  pro- 
nounced the  last  absolution.    She  was  too  far  gone 
to  receive  the  supreme  and  crowning  consolation 
of  the  Holy  Viaticum. 

"  Does  Coaina  forgive  me  ?"  she  whispered  again. 

"Coaina's  prayers  have  obtained  your  conver- 
I ;  doubt  not,  then,  her  forgiveness  in  this  ex- 
ti^me  hour,"  said  Father  Etienne. 


s. 


i 


126 


COAINA. 


1 
I 

I 


I 


"Havo  you  prayed  for  mo,  Coaina?  Through 
it  all,  Coaina?  Can  it  be  ?  Tell  me,  cliild  I"  she 
moaned. 

"  I  have  never  ceased  praying  for  yon,  my  aiuit," 
she  replied,  as  she  stooped  down  and  kissed  Alton- 
tinon's  damp  forehead,  already  marbled  by  tlio 
touch  of  death. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  tears  flowed  from  Alton- 
tinon's  darkened  eyes,  and  she  whispered,  almost 
gasping :  "  Call  upon  the  holy  names  that  I  daro 
not  speak ;  and  while  Father  Etienne  read  the 
office  for  the  dying,  Coaina  whispered  over  and 
over  again  in  her  ear  the  names  of  Jesus  and 
Mary.  She  lay  so  silent  and  motionless  they 
thought  her  dead,  when  she  suddenly  cried  out : 
"Jesus,  forgive,"  striking  her  breast  with  her 
shriveled  hand;  and  with  these  words  upon  her 
lips,  with  her  hand  uplifted  to  inflict  another  self- 
accusing  blow,  the  troubled  soul  of  Altontinon 
passed  away  to  the  tribunal  of  Infinite  Justice, 
where,  we  trust — despite-  her  sins  and  misdeeds — it 
found  safe  shelter  in  the  infinite  mercy  of  Him  who 
pardoned  the  dying  thief. 

Ere  night  settled  upon  the  panic-stricken  village, 
Winonah  lay  dead  beside  her  mother.  Confessing 
her  sins,  she  humbly  asked  pardon  of  Coaina, 


?il 


rOAINA. 


m 


whom  she  had  bo  cniclly  aRsistcd  to  injure,  aDd, 
abovo  all,  for  tho  public  Rcandal  produced  by  hor 
inalico  and  falsehoods,  and  died  a  few  hours  after 
she  was  stricken  by  the  pestilence,  in  great  agony 
and  deep  perturbation  of  soul. 

Coaina  had  "  missed  the  crown,  but  not  the  ««take 
of  martyrdom."  The  penitent  confessions  of  Alton- 
tinon  and  Winonah,  before  so  many  witnesses,  re- 
moved the  stigma  from  her  name  and  reputation. 
All  were  as  anxious  now  to  obtain  a  look  or  word 
from  her  as  they  were  before  eager  to  avoid  her. 
By  what  most  people  would  call  a  remarkable 

coincidence,  but  which  Monsigneur  De  C ,  who 

was  deeply  versed  in  the  ways  of  God,  styled  retri- 
butive justice,  the  first  victims  of  cholera  in  that 
Algonquin  village  were  Altontinon,  Winonah,  and 
five  of  their  kinsfolk  who  were  leagued  with  them 
in  the  wicked  plot  against  the  innocent  Coaina, 
who  perished,  one  after  another,  publicly  confess- 
ing his  or  her  agency  in  the  aff.iir,  while  they 
made  the  most  solemn  asseverations  of  her  perfect 
innocence. 

Like  an  angel,  Coaina  walked  unscathed  amidst 
the  pestilence ;  her  grey,  penitential  garments,  so 
lately  the  insignia  of  her  disgrace,  were  now 
honored  as  no  royal  robes  were  ever  honored,  and 


128 


COAINA. 


liailed  -with  blessings  afar  and  near ;  wlierever  she 
appeared,  those  who  had  slandered,  defamed  and 
made  a  mock  of  her,  would  fain  have  knelt  and 
kissed  the  frayed  and  faded  serge,  had  she  allowed 
it.  But  such  homage  could  not  move  her  soul 
from  its  strong  entrenchments  upon  that  rock 
whither  the  storms  of  obloquy  and  humiliation 
had  driven  her,  and  where,  in  divine  crucibles,  the 
dross  of  her  nature  had  been  separated  from  the 
precious  gold.  With  sweet  and  gentle  words  she 
received  their  repentant  expressions  of  kindness, 
but  hastened  away  from  all  who  sought  to  detain 
her,  to  minister  to  the  sick  and  dying.  Standing 
or  kneeling  beside  them,  assisting  Father  Etienne 
in  all  that  she  could,  holding  the  poor  hands  stiffen- 
ing in  death,  or  smoothing  the  cold  forehead  Imot- 
ted  with  agony ;  reciting  the  prayers  and  aspira- 
tions which  their  feeble  tongues  could  no  longer 
utter ;  performing  the  most  menial  offices,  shrink- 
ing, in  fact,  from  nothing  that  she  could  do  for  the 
dying  or  convalescent,  she  gave  herself  but  scant 
rest  day  or  night  until  the  dread  pestilence,  leav- 
ing behind  its  broad  furrows  of  graves,  passed 
away  from  among  them,  through  the  forests, 
southward. 


COAINA. 


129 


III 


CHAPTEK  X. 


CROWNING. 


J.T  was  with  great  joy  that  Coaina  once  more 
approached  the  divine  sacraments.  Like  a  pilgi-ini 
long  abroad,  and  lost  in  a  dreary  ^vilderness,  who 
suddenly  finds  himself  at  home,  surrounded  by  its 
peaceful  and  holy  endearments,  and  partaking  of 
its  joyful  feasts,  as  one  perishing  with  thirst  in  an 
arid  desert  suddenly  beholds  a  'cool  fountain -gush 
from  the  burning  sands  beside  him ;  so  felt  she 
while  kneehng  at  the  shrine  of  our  Blessed  Lady, 
or  before  the  altar  to  receive  the  Bread  of  refresh- 
ment and  eternal  life.  Every  moment,  not  devoted 
to  the  sick  and  to  necessary  repose,  she  spent  in  the 
chapel ;  it  was  her  home,  her  refuge,  her  palace ; 
it  was  to  her  the  vestibule  of  heaven  and  the  sha- 
dow of  its  everlasting  repose,  where  she  sat  undis- 
turbed at  the  feet  of  Jesus  and  Mary. 

Old  Ma-kee  crept  here  and  there  after  her, 
watching  and  waiting  patiently  her  coming  and 
going,  seemingly  satisfied  if  he  could  keep  her  in 


130 


COAINA. 


Bight,  for  he  seldom  spoke.    Towards  the  people  of 
the  mission,  he  preserved  the  most  dignified  hauteur, 
only  condescendmg  to  speak  to  them  when  he  had 
an  opportunity  to  say  something  very  bitter ;  in 
fact  old  Ma-kee  was  a  sort  of  moral  nettle,  stinging 
right  and  left,  which  helped  the  rash-mmded  in 
then-  penance,  and  gave  the  more  humble  some- 
thing to  think  about.    He  was  only  an  old  pagan, 
we  know,  and  it  was  his  way  to  judge  of  a  tree  by 
its  fruits ;  he  was  one  of  those  witnesses  no  one 
thinks  about,  who  will  arise  in  the  latter  day  to 
testify  for  or  against  the  fidehty  of  christians  to 
their  opportunities  and  graces. 

It  was  Sunday  morning,  and  the  mission  chapel 
was  crowded  with  those  whom  the  pestilence  had 
spared.     Father  Etienne  had  appomted  that  day 
not  only  as  one  of  solemn  thanksgiving,  but  was 
determined,  with  aU  the  beautiful  chivalry  of  his 
nation,  and  the  stiU  more  noble  chivah-y  of  Christi- 
anity, to  make  use  of  the  opportunity  to  offer  a 
public  amende  to  Coaina,  whose  great  humiliationc^ 
had  not  only  bee  n  public,  but  so  entirely  unmerited. 
She,  all  unaware  of  what  was  coming,  knelt  in 
her  old  accustomed  place,  partly  sheltered  from 
view  by  a  cluster  of  cedar  posts.     After  Father 
Etienne  had  spoken  in  the  most  simple  but  impres- 


COAINA. 


181 


m 


sive  manner,  and  with  touching  pathos,  of  the  great 
mercy  of  God  in  having  spared  them  while  the 
pestilence  was  abroad,  and  told  them  how  in  grati- 
tude they  were  more  than  ever  bound  to  love  and 
honor  their  Heavenly  Protectress,  of  whom  they 
were  the  special  care,  and  devote  themselves  to 
Almighty  God  and  His  service  by  a  stricter  obe- 
dience to  the  rules  of  faith,  and  a  closer  observance 
of  the  requirements  of  charity ;  then  he  proposed 
that  all  should  unite  with  him  in  saying  the  decade 
of  the  five  Dolorous  Mysteries  of  the  Rosary,  for  the 
repose  of  the  souls  of  those  who  had  recently  fallen 
victims  to  the  scourge  of  the  pestilence.  Instantly, 
every  knee  was  devoutly  bent,  and  every  head 
bowed,  wliile  the  soul-touching  devotion,  with  its 
solemn  prayers  and  responses,  was  performed. 
Low  sobs  and  fast  falhng  tears  attested  the  deep 
emotion  felt  by  the  congregation,  and  there  is  no 
doubt  that  the  earnest  and  pathetic  apj)eal  to  the 
mercy-seat  in  behalf  of  those  who  could/  no  longer 
help  themselves  amidst  the  sweet  torture  of  flame 
and  exile,  fell  like  refreshing  dews  upon  their  patient 
and  suffering  souls. 

This  over,  the  good  priest  then  spoke  of  Coiana, 
who  shrunk  out  of  sight  when  she  heard  her  name, 
covered  with  confusion  and  humility.     He  relattul, 


132 


COAINA. 


in  brief  and  simple  language,  the  great  wrongs  that 
had  been  inflicted  upon  her,  then  declared  how 
utterly  groundless  had  been  even  the  slightest  sus- 
picion of  her ;  how  guiltless  she  had  been  of  the 
least  crime  charged  against  her;  how  each  one  who 
had  slandered  and  conspired  against  her,  had  sepa- 
rately acknowledged  their  crime,  and  asserted  her 
innocence  mth  their  dying  breath ;  and  then,  turn- 
ing toward  where  she  knelt  hidden  by  the  cedar 
piUars  and  closely  veiled,  he  asked  in  the  name  of 
all  present,  her  forgiveness.     Then  he  spoke  to 
these  simple  children  of  the  forest  of  the  en  or  of 
rash  judgment,  of  the  damnable  sin  of  slander,  of 
the  bitter  evHs  of  envy,  of  the  mahce  of  pride,'  of 
the  blighting  effects   of    uncharitableness,  Avliich 
opens  the  door  of  the  soul  to  all  of  the  capital  sins; 
after  which  he  concluded  by  contrasting  with  these' 
the  beauty  of  humility,  the  virtue  of  silence,  the 
eternal  fruits  of  penitence,  the  hoHness  of  patience, 
the  glory  of  true  charity,  and  the  divine  virtue  of 
forgiveness.     AU  understood  it.     Not  one  there 
who  would  not  have  kissed  the  hem  o;  Coaina's 
garment ;  but  what  was  their  astonishment  when- 
as  Coiana  with  bowed  head   and  meekly  folded 
hands,  approached  the  altar  and  knelt  to  receive 
the  "food  of  Angels"-they  saw  old  Ma-kee,  who 


COAINA. 


133 


had  been  crouching  somewhere  out  of  sight,  creep 
slowly  forward,  stand  a  moment  erect  and  then 
kneel  at  Father  Etienne's  feet  beside  her,  asking 
for  baptism !  It  was  from  no  want  of  knowledge, 
but  of  faith,  that  he  had  deferred  and  put  aside 
Christianity  so  long — he  knew  all  that  it  taught ;  he 
had  been  living  too  long  among  christians,  and  was 
too  shrewdly  intelligent,  and  inteUigently  curious  to 
be  igi  )rant  of  christian  doctrine  or.  dogma,  and 
now  by  some  wonderful  operation  of  Divine  Provi- 
dence— possibly  in  answer  to  Coaina's  jDrayers,  and 
to  reward  his  charity  toward  her  during  the  days 
of  her  tribulation— here  at  the  last  moment,  just 
when  the  last  sands  were  crumbling  away  from  his 
frail  foothold  on  life ;  the  grace  of  faith  was  once 
more  proffered  him,  not  to  be  rejected  again.  That 
afternoon  at  vespers  Ma-kee  recei  od  the  regene- 
rating waters  of  baptism,  putting  off  his  old  savage 
cognomen,  won  more  than  haK  a  century  before  by 
his  dexterity  in  scalping  the  victims  which  fell  be- 
neath his  war  club  in  the  last  fierce  wars  of  his 
tribe,  and  received  in  its  stead  that  of  Peter.  Ma- 
kee's  conversion  made  quite  a  festival  at  the  mission 
of  the  Two  Mountains,  but  after  it  was  over,  the  old 
chief  was  seen  no  more  among  them.  He  lay  down 
one  night  upon  his  couch  of  sldns,  where  he  lingered 


. 


134 


COAINA. 


month  after  month,  suffeiing  from  an  incurable  dis- 
ease.   He  was  removed  on   a  litter  to  Coaina's 
lodge,  where  she  nursed  him  with  all  the  fidelity 
and  tenderness  of  a  daughter.     Father  Etienne  saw 
him  daily  and  comforted  him  with  good  counsei 
and  cheering  words.     Except  to  these  two  he  had 
but  few  words  to  say.     Wlien  his  friends,  kinsmen 
and  others  of  his  tribe,  young  and  old,  flocked  to 
see  him,  he  had  but  one  admonition,  which  he  gave 
individually  to  them  all,  and  repeated  again  when- 
ever they  came ;  this  was :  "  judge  not."     UnUke 
the  beloved  disciple  at  Patmos,  he  did  not  say: 
"  Little  children  love  one  another ;"  Ma-kee  was  of 
sterner  stuflf,  and  had  he  been  in  the  vigor  of  his 
prime,  he  would  have  been  just  as  apt  as  not,  had 
occasion  offered,  to  have  enforced  his  admonition 
by  smiting  off  offenders'  ears  and  otherwise  inflict- 
ing such  just  punishment  as  the  case  in  hand 
required.     But  he  was  too  far  gone  now  to  do 
aught— to  keep  them  in  mind  of  the  great  sin  of 
rash  judgment  and  uncharitableness  they  had  fallen 
into  against  his  favorite— except  say  to  them,  one 
and   all,  ''Judge  not;'  and  they  remembered  the 
solemn  sentence,  after  the  old  chief  was  laid  in  his 
christian  grave  until  the  end  of  their  days. 
All  was  changed  for  Coaina,  but  she  remained 


r 


COAINA. 


135 


unchanged,  except  that  her  soul  ripened  in  virtue 
and  gi'ace.  She  would  fain  have  continued  to  wear 
her  grey  robes  of  penance,  but  Father  Etienne 
represented  to  her  that  they  were  a  daily  reproach 
to  every  one  in  the  village,  reminding  them  of  their 
injustice  against  her,  and  expressed  his  own  desire 
that  she  should  leave  them  olT ;  then  for  the  sake 
of  charity,  and  in  a  spirit  of  obedience,  she  did  so, 
and  wore  a  dress  and  veil  of  fine  cloth,  embroidered 
and  faced  with  white  silk,  which  the  ladies  of  Mon- 
treal, who  had  heard  her  strange  story,  had  sent  to 
Father  Etienne  for  her  acceptance. 

Tar-ra-hee,  who  had  been  faithful  to  her  in  heart, 
again  sought  her  for  his  wife,  and  other  alliances 
equally  as  honorable  were  offered,  but  she  rejected 
them  all  with  modest  and  gentle  dignity,  saying : 
"  I  have  found  my  true  and  constant  Lover,  He  not 
only  comforted  and  sustained  me,  when  all  else 
failed,  and  the  world  abandoned  me ;  but  He  also 
suffered  and  died  for  me." 

Ah,  happy  she  to  have  so  early  tested  the  noth- 
ingness of  this  life,  and  tasted  so  soon  the  bitter 
lees  of  its  flower-crow aed  cup;  most  happy  for 
her,  that  the  staff  upon  which  she  had  leaned  in 
thoughtless  security,  broke  in  twain,  piercing  her 
and  driving  her  to  the  support  of  one  which  would 


136 


COAINA. 


support  her  in  the  "  valley  of  tho  shadow  of  death/' 
For  Coaina  was  fading  away  from  this  life;  her 
eyes  grew  brighter,  and  her  cheeks  wore  that  crim- 
son hue,  which  harbingers  dissolution,  as  the  red- 
dening of  the  forest  leaves  tells  of  the  death  fires 
which  consume  their  hfe.     Her  step,  once  so  swift 
and  light,  became  feeble  and  slow ;  and  ere  long, 
she  was  confined  to  her  lodge.     *"  Changed  fi'om 
penitential  silence  to  a  place  of  pilgrimage,  her 
abode  became  the  resort  of  people  from  far  and 
near.     As  they  go  to  visit  the  relics  and  shrines  of 
saints,  they  came  to  look  upon  her ;  to  hear  a  last 
word  from  her  lips,  to  inhale  the  odor  of  her  vir- 
tues, and  recommend  themselves  to  her  prayers.    I 
saw  one,  who  went  in  to  visit  her,  come  hastily  out 
—the  big  tears  rolling  over  his  face— saving :  'I 
am  unworthy  to  remain  longer  in  the  presence  of 
such  an  angel.'  " 

Fading  away  like  the  morning  star  into  tlio  ' 
brightness  of  dawn,  Coaina— all  unmoved  except  to 
deeper  humility  by  all  the  prodigal  attentions 
lavished  upon  her,  and  scarcely  understanding  the 
interest  she  excited,  so  unconscious  was  she  of  any 
superior  excellence— felt  that  her  end  was  drawing 
near.  It  was  past  midnight,  and  so  far  from  any 
*  Monseigneur  De  0 . 


\ 


COAINA. 


137 


leatli.*' 
e;  her 
t  crim- 
e  recl- 
li  fires 
)  swift 
3  long, 
I  from 
e,  lior 
ir  and 
Qes  of 
a  last 
er  vir- 
3rs.  I 
Ij  out 
ig:  'I 
ice  of 

0  tlio 

3pt  to 

itions 
g  tlio 
f  any 
lowing 

1  any 


I 


appearance  of  approaching  dissolution  about  her, 
her  friends  who  had  been  watching  beside  hor, 
thought  they  had  not  seen  her  look  so  well  and 
strong  for  many  weeks.  There  was  a  look  of  joy 
in  her  face,  an  elasticity  in  her  motions,  and  a  clear 
musical  ring  in  her  voice  which  filled  them  with 
astonishment,  and  hope  that  she  was  yet  to  be 
spared  to  them.  But  it  was  only  the  girding-up  of 
the  pilgrim,  who,  after  his  toilsome  march,  sees 
through  the  mist  the  joyful  glimmer  upon  the  walls 
of  the  city,  where  his  weary  form  will  find  rest  and 
his  toils  their  crown  and  reward.  She  was  dying, 
dying  in  cheerful  hope,  and  calmly  made  her  pre- 
parations for  the  event.  She  asked  for  her  richest 
garments,  those  which  she  had  fashioned  with  such 
taste  and  care  nearly  four  years  ago,  for  her  w^ed- 
ding  attire,  composed  of  rich  stuffs  of  various  and 
beautiful  colors,  adorned  with  brilliant  feathers, 
with  pearls  and  silver  and  gold  fringes ;  and  with 
the  assistance  of  her  friends,  arrayed  herself  in  it. 
Bathing  her  face  and  hands,  she  smoothed  back 
her  beautiful  hair,  now  grown  long  and  silky,  and 
placed  upon  her  head  the  exquisite  wreath  of  feather 
flowers  and  pearls,  sent  to  her  by  the  nuns  of  Notre 
Dame ;  she  composed  herself  upon  her  pillow,  her 
hands  folded  upon  her  bosom,  holding  her  beloved 


138 


COAINA. 


rosary,  which  she  continued  to  recite,  while  sho 
awaited  with  serene   composure    the    coming    of 
Father  Etienne  (who  had  been  sent  for)  with  tho 
Holy  Viaticum.    Soon  he  came  and  gave  her  the 
holy  anointing,  all  present  uniting  fervently  in  the 
prayers,  while  they  watched  through  their  tears  the 
kindling  brightness  of  her  face;  after  which  he 
approached  her,  holding  in  his  veiled. hands  tho 
Most  Holy  Viaticum,  the  Bread  which  consoleth, 
the  Lamb  which  taketh  away  all  sin.    She  stretched 
out  her  thin  dusky  hands  toward  the  Divine  Guest, 
and  while  her  eyes  glowed  with  unearthly  lustre, 
she  exclaimed  in  clear,  sweet  tones:  "Welcome, 
beloved  Lord.     I  bless  Thee,  my  God,  that  I  have 
been  counted  worthy  to  be  treated  some  little  like 
Thy  Divine  Son  ;  and  I  bless  and  forgive,  ten  thou- 
sand times,  all  who  ever  injured  me.     Come,  sweet 
Jesus,  it  is  now  that  my  wedding  feasts  are  about 
to  begin,  never  to  end !" 

These  were  the  last  words  uttered  by  Coaina,  for 
after  having  received  the  Holy  Viaticum,  and  last 
absolution,  she  lay  with  folded  hands,  her  large 
bright  eyes  fixed  upon  the  crucifix  and  the  image 
of  Mary  at  the  foot  of  her  bed,  speechless  and  mo- 
tionless, and  they  thought,  as  they  gazed  upon  her 
with  tender  awe,  that  she  held  communication  with 


OOAINA. 


189 


angels,  all  unsocu  by  thorn.  Beautiful — by  tho 
flickering  light  of  tapers,  which  glistened  with  fitful 
rays  among  tho  gold  and  silver  trimmings  of  her 
bridal  dress,  flashing  out  here  and  there,  as  with 
hidden  glories — ^looked  the  Indian  maiden  ;  but 
more  fair  and  lovely  looked  she,  when  the  first 
golden  sunbeams  stole  through  the  vines,  and 
lighted  up  those  soft  tender  eyes,  now  gazing  upon 
far  greater  and  more  distant  glories — for  she  was 
dead.  No  one  knew  the  moment  of  her  passing 
away,  it  was  so  serene.  Her  tender  and  faithfu) 
devotion  to  the  Immaculate  Mother  of  Jesus,  her 
patient  virtues  so  like  unto  hers,  crowned  this 
supreme  hour  with  peace,  and  obtained  for  her,  wo 
trust,  swift  admission  to  the  ineffable  joys  of  her 
Divine  Son. 

Certain  it  is,  that  the  remembrance  of  the  gentle 
Coaina's  devotion  to  the  Blessed  Mother — luider 
whose  invocation  the  Mission  was  established  over 
a  century  before — combined  with  a  knowledge  of 
the  fruits  thereof,  which  they  had  all  witnessed,  not 
only  in  the  conversion  of  her  enemies,  but  the  in- 
creased ardor  of  the  people  of  the  Mission,  added 
but  another  link  to  the  glittering  chain  of  e\ddence 
which  stretches  from  the  humble  house  of  Nazareth, 
through   the  hoary  centuries,  down   to   our   own 


110 


COAINA. 


times,  of  tlie  effieaoj  of  tlio,  powerful  iiitorcesHioii  of 
tlio  Vii'f^iii  Mother,  wIioho  Immaculate  Conception 
cannot  bo  doubted  without  doubting  God;  for  if 
lie,  by  His  Divine  power,  created  Eve,  who  was  to 
become  the  mother  of  men,  pure  and  apotlesH,  who 
will  dare  doubt  that  by  the  same  Divhio  jiower, 
suspending  the  common  laws  of  fallen  nature,  He 
created  pure  and  without  l)l()miHh,  her,  who  from 
all  eternity  was  predestined  to  the  wonderful  di;,aiity 
of  becoming  the  Mother  of  His  Divine  Son.     Of 
her  flesh  was  formed  His;  who  then  can  believe 
that  that  virginal  flesh  had  taint  or  stain  of  tlio 
])olluiion  of  the  fall?     Let  us  hail  thee,  then,  our 
Immaculate  Mother  and  tender  friend,  given  to  us 
by  Almighty  God  from  His  high  throne  in  heaven  ; 
bequeathed  to  us  by  Jesus  from  the  bloody  Cross 
on  Calvary !  hail  thee  as  our  compassionate  inter- 
cess(n*  with  thy  Son,  who  is  to  be  our  Judge,  im- 
ploring thee,  who  partook  of  all  the  bitterness  of 
the  cup  He  drained  for  our  salvation,  and  who 
knowest  so  well  our  human  infirmities,  to  obtain 
for  us  such  graces  that  these  august  suffeiings  and 
infinite  ransom  may  not,  through  our  own  fault, 
become  useless  to  us. 

We  have  concluded  the  nan-ative  of  Coaina,  the 
Rose  of  the  Algonquins,  and  will  close  by  once  more 


! 


COATNA. 


I'tl 


I 


quoting  from  Monseignour  Do  C :  "  Her  burial 

was  more  like  a  triumph  than  a  scene  of  mourning, 
and  to  this  day  she  is  honored  and  invoked  by  tlie 
christians  of  the  mission  of  the  *  Lake  of  the 
Two  Mountains,'  as  virgin,  and  martyr  to  false 
testimony. 


[The  follc^wing  is  the  autograph  to  which  we 
have  alluded  in  the  commencement  of  Coaina.  It 
was  written  by  Monsigneur  de  Charbonnel,  Bishop 
of  Toronto,  C.  W.,  when  he  was  studying  the  Eng- 
lish language  at  Saint  Mary's  Seminary,  Baltimore. 
Subsequently,  having  received  permission  from  the 
Holy  Father,  he  resigned  the  mitre,  and  retired  to 
a  cloister  of  one  of  the  contemplative  Orders  in 
Europe :] 

We  have  near  Montreal  a  Catholic  congregation 
^f  Indian  savages.  Their  village  is  situated  on  the 
banks  of  a  beautiful  lake  formed  by  the  waters  of 
the  Ottawa,  and  crowned  with  two  very  pleasant 
little  mountains.  Hence  this  village  is  called  the 
Lake  of  the  Two  Mountains. 

There  was  in  this  village  a  young  Indian  girl, 
still  living  last  year  ;  I  will  call  her  Coaina  (Cathe- 
rine).   She  was  an  orphan,  educated  by  her  aunt. 


142 


OOAINA. 


Almighty  God,  the  special  Father  of  orplians,  grant- 
ed this  girl  so  many  graces,  and  she  was  so  faith- 
ful to  His  inspirations,  that,  so  striking  was  her 
piety,  docility,  modesty  and  amiability,  she  pos- 
sessed the  esteem  and  affection  of  aU  the  village. 
She  made  the  family  of  her  aunt  happy,  and  pa- 
rents proposed  her  to  their  children  as  a  model  to 
imitate.  From  her  first  years,  hke  those  of  her 
tribe,  she  was  employed  in  hunting. 

Every  autumn  they  leave  their  village,  and  start 
with  all  their  little  children  to  the  northwest. 
Every  family  embarks  in  its  small  and  very  Ught 
canoe,  and  with  this  frail  vessel  goes  up  the  river 
and  lakes  two  thousand  miles  distant.  In  certain 
places  they  leave  the  river,  on  account  of  the 
dreadful  rapids  through  the  rocks  and  falls,  and 
carry  their  canoes  and  baggage  around.  Their 
happiness  is  to  have  with  them  a  missionary,  to 
follow  them  during  all  their  hunting.  It  is  not 
two  years  since  that  one  priest  was  drowned,  with 
all  those  who  were  in  the  same  canoe.  Glorious 
and  happy  death  for  a  priest  devoted  to  the  glory 
of  God  and  good  of  souls  I  Arrived  at  the  woods, 
iQ  places  excellent  for  hunting,  every  family  erects 
a  hut  with  trees  and  branches  to  pass  the  winter. 
All  their  occupation  during  that  season  is  to  hunt ; 


I     . 


COAINA. 


143 


they  live  on  the  animals  which  they  kill  or  catch, 
and  at  their  return  they  sell  the  skins  of  these 
animals,  whose  furs  are  so  well  appreciated  in  our 
cities  as  a  defence  against  the  Sharpness  of  the 
winter.  Zou  may  judge  how  hard  must  be  such  a 
life  through  rivers  and  lakes  and  woods,  rain  and 
snow,  frost  and  ice,  particularly  for  the  tender 
children. 

However,  our  young  girl,  in  this  manner  of 
living,  became  as  strong,  as  skilful  a  huntress,  as 
she  was  pious  and  amiable.  No  one  surpassed  her 
in  running,  in  jumping,  in  climbing  up  the  trees,  in 
shooting ;  but  she  surpassed  all  the  others  in  piety 
and  modesty.  Accomplished  as  Coaina  was,  the 
son  of  the  chief  of  the  tribe  wished  to  marry  her, 
and  the  marriage  was  to  be  soon  celebrated  with 
great  feasts  through  the  village,  when  all  was 
stopped  and  changed.  Her  aunt  charged  her  with 
many  crimes;  the  judges  of  the  tribe  held  iheir 
solemn  assembly  to  decide  the  case ;  witnesses 
wore  heard,  and  on  their  depositions  the  accused 
girl  was  convicted  of  several  crimes,  and  con- 
demned to  a  pubUc  penance,  and  as  much  despised 
as  she  was  before  esteemeTd  and  praised  by  every- 
body. For  several  years  the  coming  in  the  church 
and  the  receiving  of  the  holy  Communion  were  for- 


lU 


COAINA. 


bidden  to  her;  during  the  offices,  when  people 
were  coming  in  or  going  out,  she  was  obliged  to 
kneel  down  or  stand  outside  of  the  door  of  the 
temple,  with  a  dress  of  penance,  and  the  title  of  a 
hypocrite. 

Meanwhile  the  cholera  broke  out;  all  the  rela- 
tives of  Coaina  were  seized,  and  her  aunt  the  first, 
and  more  severely  than  the  others.    In  fear  of 
death,  judgment  and  heU,  she  called  the  priest  and 
the  judges,  and  declared  tt  it  all  the  accusations 
against  her  neice  were  but  lies,  false  testimony, 
calumnies  inspired  by  tJie  devil  of  jealousy,  because 
her  neice  had  been  preferred  to  her  own  daughter 
by  the  son  of  the  chief  of  the  tribe ;  all  the  other 
accusers    confessed    the  same    before  they  died 
Hence,  our  innocent  victim  was  not  now  esteemed, 
as  before  her  condemnation,  like  a  saint,  but  an 
angel.     Ilie    most    advantageous    alliances  were 
proposed  to  her,  but  sho  refused  them  aU,  to  be- 
long more  closely  to  God  alone. 

The  year  before  last,  Coaina  was  taken  sick; 
during  her  sickness  her  cottage  was  changed  into 
a  place  of  pilgrimage—every  one  came  to  her,  as 
people  go  to  tlie  reHcs  of  the  saints,  wishing  to  see 
her  again,  to  hear  a  last  word  from  her  mouth,  to 
inhale  the  odor  of  her  virtues,  to  recommend  them- 


COAINA. 


146 


selves  to  her  prayers ;  and  one  day  a  pubUc  sinner 
being  invited  to  visit  the  holy  sick— I,  said  he. 
ehedding  some  big  tears,  I,  to  approach  such  an 
angel !  I  am  unworthy  of  it, 

Coaina,  feeling  death  very  near,  asked  for  her 
full  dress,  composed  of  stuffs  of  various  and  bril- 
liant colors,  adorned  with  feathers,  pearls,  sij'ver 
and  gold  fringes,  received  the  sacraments  with  the 
most  edifying  fervor,  blessing  God  for  having  been 
treated  a  little  as  her  innocent  Saviour,  and  forgiv- 
ing a  thousand  times  her  calumniators.    Her  con- 
fessor, who  would  not  speak  when  she  was  con- 
demned, said  now  that  her  aunt  and  relations  were 
indebted  for  their  conversion  to  the  fervent  prayers 
which  she  did  not  cease  to  say  in  their  behalf 
during  her  penance.    "What  a  heroical  charity ! 

Her  last  words  were  these :  It  is  now  that  my 
wedding  feasts  are  going  to  begin,  not  to  end. 
Her  burial  was  rather  a  triumph  than  a  mourning. 
Everybody  in  the  viUage  honors  and  invokes  her 
as  a  virgin,  and  a  martyr  of  false  testimonies. 

God  tries  sometimes,  but  never  gives  up  the 
just ;  and  He  always  rewards  them,  here  and  in 
heaven,  according  to  their  generosity  in  trials  and 
crosses.    Pray  for  your  servant  in  Christ, 

A.   CHAKBONNEIh 


